The Great Uprising
by Minister MoMmy
Summary: Where it all began.
1. Chapter 1

The Great Uprising

A Story of Magical Emancipation

Part One: **The Conspiracy**

"Wake! Wake, you pampered house-pet! Wake, you listless, lifeless lump! Wake I say!"

Cadmus sprung to consciousness, and listened alertly for the hissing voice that disturbed his sleep. Slowly, so as to refrain from making a sound, he shifted in his meager bunk, sending an arm fumbling over the side for his steel and flint. He guided them to his bedside candle and quickly struck it alight, and briefly the room was lit. The sparse stone walls and damp, cold floor were visible for half an instant, before the intruder––revealed to be small, green, and snarling––snuffed it out.

"Bumbling fool! No lights, else I'll be discovered!"

"And why, pray tell, is that of my concern, Goblin?" Cadmus demanded, though in an obliging whisper. A goblin it was, clear as day, though it was of course still the dead of night.

"You will be lashed as well as I, if we are found! The story of a goblin intruder shall be hard proven, much harder than that of a human host. Now shut those foul, fleshy lips and do as I say!"

"Lashes may be welcome, compared to what you have in store. Your folk are not known for their good will, nor their honest intentions." Sliding a hand along the thin sheets and taut surface of his meager bed, Cadmus wished for a more suitable means of defense. Though nearly double the goblin in height and weight, it had the sharp teeth and long, pointed nails characteristic of its kind. He longed for a dagger, or maybe a short club, to fend it off with. But slaves were of course forbidden weapons of any sort.

"My will is far from good, and my intentions are absolutely reliant on dishonesty," it conceded willingly, "yet I am not here in search of a victim, but a co-conspirator. It will be you, and two more humans of your choosing, amenable or not. Do you understand?"

Though his misgivings were far from pacified, Cadmus's interest was piqued. "As fortune would have it, you find this human willing. Go on."

"None more at the moment," the goblin replied, casting his head around to the small, door-less arch that led out of the room, gazing with his goblins' eyes at something Cadmus could not see. "Be content to know that old stones have begun to roll, and soon the very mountains will tumble after.

"You must meet me outside the largest stable at midnight tomorrow, and bring your two companions. From the darkness, you will hear the name 'Garnash' called and then I shall approach. Should you hear any other name or sound, you must flee or face death.

"And now I must heed my own advice. The night-guard approaches." And with that, Garnash left the room, his form plunging seamlessly into the darkness.

Cadmus was left awake that night, pondering the encounter. A goblin's tongue was known to be silver, and often not to be trusted, yet he couldn't shake the promise: _old stones have begun to roll, and soon the very mountains will tumble after._

• • •

When the bells rang in the morning, calling slaves to service, Cadmus was already up. He slipped on his robes and left his quarters. He joined the other humans as he entered the hall and walked to the only exit of the slave barracks. Already they were all awake and composed; these were the house-humans, and as such were held to very strict parameters of behavior. They were not allowed to speak out of turn. They were not allowed to present themselves to their work looking scruffy or unkempt. And they were not allowed to defy the orders of the elves, else they would face severe punishment. Such were the criteria of the house-human enslavement.

Cadmus passed the guard-elf as he left the slave-barracks. Taller and prouder than any human, and with features more fair and beautiful, the elf looked down on his servants with malice. Wrath brimmed from his eyes as he brandished a long wooden wand, and a fiery whip sprouting from the end.

"Faster!" He commanded a slave that stood somewhere behind Cadmus. The girl had been speaking to a friend. "You seem to think that you are your own master? Else you would know better than to waste your time on social calls, when there are elves to be served and chores to be done!" His wand came down, lashing the girl across the back with the whip's burning thongs. They passed directly through the robes without a mark, impacting her skin alone. Air sighed out the girl's lungs, as close as she dared come to a cry. Cadmus kept moving forward, his eyes rigidly focused ahead of him.

The humans' quarters were kept in the outer ring of The City, just in front of the centaurs' stables and the fields. Moving inward, Cadmus passed the many elf dwellings as he entered the inner ring. It was still too early for them to wake, but when they did, the elves would pour from the elegant buildings to lounge in their courtyards or balconies, to socialize and barter, waited on hand and foot by their troop of human slaves. Elves were outnumbered by humans fifty-to-one, yet had one crucial weapon: Magic. With their magic, and especially their magic wands, the elves reigned torment down on humans, and commanded their black minions to do their bidding.

Some of the humans turned away earlier to work near the fields, performing delicate tasks like weaving and sewing. More yet turned as they passed by the elf dwellings, to cook and clean and attend to the elves. But Cadmus remained on his path, continuing forward into the very heart of The City. There he worked, serving as a scribe in one of the seven great houses of elvish learning.

There were six primary houses. Two were of craft: Metal and Wand. The other four were of study: Memory, Space, Time, and Love. The house that Cadmus toiled was the House of Memory, where he was charged to record and file knowledge. The last great house was not spoken of, though all the enslaved knew what transpired within its halls. From its foundations, buried deep beneath the ground, seeped a cold, clawing evil, which drew in the living and hopefully never returned them. The elves that worked there would call it the House of Creation, the House of Invention, the House of Generation. But from the feelings in their bones, and the sickness in their hearts, the humans had ascribed it different names; the House of Perversions; Aberrations; Monstrosities. And if any had ever passed through the doors and left to bear witness, it would be known by its proper name, and be called the House of Death.

The House of Memory stood adjacent to the House of Space, which connected to the House of Time, both of which stood above the House of Love, their shared hall housing the only entrance to the locked basement cavern.

Traditionally, the slaves were expected to arrive to work before the elves, and Cadmus was surprised to see that elves, brandishing wands and clad in the finest goblin armor, were swarming in and out of the Houses of Time and Space. The City was already teeming with activity; the furnaces from the House of Metal Craft were lit, and trees from the courtyard in the House of Wand Craft were falling. No perceptible sight or sound issued from the House of Death, but to cast an eye upon was to draw a shadow across the soul, and raise bumps upon the skin. Cadmus eyed this activity warily, keeping his head hung as he ducked into the House of Memory.

It was a large marble hall, lit only by the brilliant shining light of memory. A stone basin filled the center of the room, covered in carved runes and filled with swirling silver reminiscence. The runes spelled out an excerpt from ancient poem, alleged to have been sung at the creation of the universe. It charged those created–––the elves––to keep record by preserving memories. With this basin, inscribed with runes, they did just that. And in the ring of floor surrounding it, less than ten feet wide, elves interpreted the memory and men took record, storing their scrolls in the shelves lining the walls, stretching up fifty feet all the way until the next level. On that next level only the elves were allowed. It was were they conducted their research on memory and the mind, learning to cast spells that give entry to thought and feeling, and even control over free will. All that could be seen of this research from the lower level was the single tank hanging from the ceiling, filled with potion and inhabited by eerie floating brains, taken from the skulls of the finest, cleverest slaves, be they man, goblin, or centaur.

Cadmus scratched away on his parchment, his records lit by their purer counterparts in recollection. He spent several hours without reprieve, his keen eyes fixed on his quill, rasping against the parchment as the day began to pass him by.

On any other day, the elves would signal their midday break and lead the house-humans into the central pavilion, where the house-humans from the kitchens would serve the elves lunch. The slaves were allowed to salvage the table scraps as their own meager lunch. On this day, however, the elves were all much too preoccupied to monitor the humans, or even to break for lunch themselves. In the House of Memory, the elves had cloistered themselves in the upper level, and left the work of their humans unsupervised.

So as midday came and went, the humans tentatively rose from their stations, and entered the pavilion on their own. It was a large, elevated structure, and like most areas that held elves and their servants simultaneously, was made of two layers. At the top was a fantastic series of banquet tables, wrought from goblin iron and bronze. So fine were the enchantments upon the metal that no crumb or drop ever landed upon the surface of a table, but instead would float an inch or so above, as if held in place by a specter. Fantastic banisters and arches ringed the level, closing it off from the staircases that lead down to the slave level, which was divided between goblins and humans. As humans came from the homes of elvish gentry and the House of Memory, the goblins came from the House of Metal Craft and stayed on the opposite end of the slave level, devouring scraps of raw meat, seen unfit for elvish consumption.

With no masters to serve, the humans faced––for the first time in their lives––excesses of food and drink. As men and women around him flocked to their meal, Cadmus eyed the procession of goblins warily, as they filled their share of the pavilion. He had not gotten a full glance at his intruder the night before, and was acutely aware that it could be any of the small, slippery demons in front of him.

All humans knew that dishonesty was clearly displayed in every goblin's face, just as clearly as their beady eyes, crooked noses, or pointed teeth. Yet Cadmus was not interested in trusting a goblin. Though very few yet knew it, Cadmus was quite as capable of backhandedness and deception as any goblin, and had just as much a taste for it. The goblin's proposal had to be taken with a grain of salt, but he was so intrigued that Cadmus felt that he had the salt to spare.

Considering the command he had been given the night before, he contemplated which two humans he would bring with him this coming night.

He immediately knew that he would not bring Agatha. She was pure and beautiful, clever and witty, but much too honest and levelheaded to sneak out in the middle of the night. And regardless, Cadmus would never endanger her.

Instead, he approached his brother. "Antioch! Where is Ignotus?"

"Hello to you too, little brother." Antioch, who stood half a head taller than Cadmus, barely turned to acknowledge his presence. Being of a larger and stronger constitution than most, Antioch rarely had enough food to sate his monstrous appetite. Today, he intended to make up for it, and piled mounds of meat and bread upon his platter.

"I need to speak to you both. Where is he?"

"Well how should I know? Who am I, his keeper?" Antioch replied hostilely.

"Antioch," said Cadmus, suddenly stern. "What have you done?"

"Nothing!"

"_Antioch!_"

"Oh, Cadmus, calm down. Why should you care if I, say, pinned him between the bookcases again?"

Cadmus rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. "Come on, then!"

• • •

Ignotus sighed. Yet again, Antioch felt himself victorious. Being the youngest and smallest of his brothers, Ignotus was the easiest to antagonize. Antioch had found various ways to bully him, but none tickled him quite as much as forcing Ignotus into the crevice between two bookshelves, and then leaving him there in the House of Memory while everyone else fetched lunch. Ignotus really didn't mind the solitude, or the missed meal, but he didn't appreciate his breathing being so confined.

After a few minutes Ignotus heard footsteps, and after glimpsing out from between the bookshelves, he said, "Hello, Cadmus."

"Don't give me that tone." Cadmus scowled as he threw himself against the shelf. "Antioch! Stop blundering about and make yourself useful!"

"Must I? I'm trying to enjoy my lunch."

"Antioch!" Cadmus turned away from the bookcase and stared down his brother, who was at the moment stacking a slice of turkey on top of a slice of mutton and that on top of a slice of pheasant.

Antioch relented, and strolled over to where Ignotus was pinned. "Hello, baby brother," he smirked, poking his face between the wooden boards. "Enjoying your personal time?"

"Very much, thanks. It was quite tranquil until your trollish feet started shaking the floors."

Antioch let out a brief, bellowing laugh. "You must fancy yourself clever. But you don't strike me as clever right now, trapped like a rat insulting the only man in the room that can release you."

"Oh, I would never call myself clever, not as long as men like you exist to prove me wrong."

"Now what is that supposed to mean?"

"You've clearly proved that true cleverness rests in trapping people between bookshelves. It is such a triumph of the imagination. I wish I could be so brilliant."

Antioch did not respond right away, and Cadmus stepped in. "Ignotus, our dear older brother is not a man of words. Speak much more and his head will start spinning. Now silence yourself and let him show us what he's good for."

"I may not have quite such a silver tongue, but I believe I still have a head on my shoulders, not a block of wood," Antioch grumbled. Placing a hand on either shelf, Antioch let out a grunt and suddenly each shelf slid half a foot.

Ignotus stepped out, revealing his thin frame, much to thin for the standard-issue clothing that hung from his limbs. "I will never ceased to be amazed at how stunted you are," Antioch noted.

"I don't know," mused Ignotus, shaking life back into his arms and legs, "I think you'll find that from a slightly altered perspective, you are the stunted one, not I."

"What do you mean to say now?" he demanded. "I'd wager I'm twice your size!"

Sighing, Ignotus conceded, "Well, maybe if you'd leave me an extra inch between the shelves, my growth would be less constricted."

"And maybe if you would close that mouth, Antioch would no longer feel the need to silence you. You know you provoke him," Cadmus barked as he grabbed his younger sibling by the shirt and his older one by the beard, dragging them further into the hall.

"Oi! No need to tug on my face! How would you feel if I decided to rip out your moustache?"

"There'd be no need. The only way to move you about is by your beard; if you felt the need to take me somewhere, you could just grab me about the center and throw me."

Despite this logic, Antioch was a bit incensed. He was quite proud of his full, black goatee, just as Cadmus was of his thin brown moustache, framing his mouth. Ignotus could not grow facial hair, as the two others had never failed to point out. He failed to see what purpose it served, but his brothers assured him that no true man could go without it.

"Now, get down here and stay quiet," Cadmus hissed, ducking into a small basement area. It was a small chamber beneath the basin, holding smaller basins where memory could be concentrated and observed. These smaller basins were called _pensieves_, and as the eons have passed most have been lost or destroyed. Only one is known to exist anymore.

"What is this about, anyway?" Antioch demanded.

"I forgot that discretion isn't in your skill set," Cadmus hissed, smacking him about the head. "Now be silent, and listen!"

And in a terse whisper, Cadmus related the events of the previous night. And then, almost tentatively, he asked, "So. Are you with me?"

"I will be missing my beauty sleep, but I think I'm game for a bit of mischief," Antioch replied casually.

Cadmus turned to Ignotus, whose eyes were focused on his knees. "And you?"

"I would strongly advise against it," he said slowly.

"My lord, Ignotus!" Antioch exclaimed, yet again disregarding Cadmus' pleas for silence. "I know you have no hair on your face, but until now I didn't realize that manhood had fully forsaken you!"

"I didn't realize that manhood was synonymous with idiocy," Ignotus said forcefully. His usual wistful, absent tone was gone. Nothing but seriousness resonated in his voice. "This is a conspiracy, and we cannot afford to be caught. The elves hardly need an excuse to kill our kind. More and more of us disappear each day."

"If that's the case, we need a conspiracy more than ever," Antioch said resolutely.

"Don't pretend to be what you aren't," Ignotus snapped again. "You are no liberator, you are no emancipator. You are a child, and a slave, looking to spite his masters."

Antioch remained silent, as did Cadmus. Ignotus furrowed his brow, locked in deep thought. Though they bickered, and superficially seemed to profoundly dislike each other, the three of them were brothers, and they had no one else. "Well there was never a choice for me, was there? Someone has to come to keep the two of you fools alive."

• • •

Cadmus faced only one brief reservation about his covert plans that night. Right before nightfall, as the slaves headed back to their quarters, he walked alongside Agatha. She served as a seamstress in an elvish home, and no job could suit her more perfectly. The finest silk and lace passed under her fingers, almost as fine and flawless as she was. Her lush blonde hair flowed down to her waist; so soft and feathered that Cadmus could barely resist reaching out a hand to touch it. The flawlessness of her features could only be matched by her soul. So sweet was she that in her presence he felt fiendish and contemptible. For an instant he didn't want to meet the goblin anymore. He wished only to sleep safely in his bed that night, if only so he could wake and see her the next morning.

But Cadmus had no real choice in the matter. As midnight approached, he became restless, so by eleven he could barely keep seated. Finally, he crept out from his room and out of the barracks. More elves were about that night than there had ever been before. He stuck to the shadows, and made his way to the centaurs' stables. He stationed himself outside the largest stable and waited. Soon enough his brothers met him. They waited in silence, flinching whenever the crunch of a boot came near.

And then suddenly, they heard small feet shuffling behind them. Before they lost all courage and bolted, a coarse whisper spoke the name, "_Garnash_". Cadmus approached, and issued a whispered command, "Show yourself!"

Out of the shadows came three goblins, and Garnash was the one leading. "You have brought the humans. Good. Now come."

The goblins led the three brothers around the building and in through a side entrance, protected from elvish eyes by the neighboring stables. When they entered, the six of them were met by a centaur. He was older than is average for a centaur, and clearly of a superior breed. He had lived longer, grown larger, and seen more. His hair was a thick gray, and his coat a lustrous auburn. But his most striking feature was his eyes. Most centaurs had a vacant stare, as if a haze were hanging about them. But these eyes were sharp, and knowing. They were eyes that had seen beyond the here and now, and bloodshot from seeing it too frequently.

"My name is Glaucon," he said. "and I will be your salvation."


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two: **The Creation**

"Come," the centaur continued. "We have much to discuss." He led them further into the barn. Though it was the dead of night, and the stables had no torches or candles, a faint white light came down from above.

Looking up, the brothers saw thousands of small white spheres, hovering an inch from the ceiling, illuminating the room. There were a few larger ones that grew red and blue, but for the most part it was an unbroken scattering of white.

As Ignotus looked, he could almost see them shift into images. There was an archer, and a dog, and even a great centaur. The way the light danced, it reminded him of the way silver strands of memory gave way to sounds and images. It was truly beautiful.

"What is this? Elf magic?" Antioch asked.

"Certainly not," Ignotus responded softly. "They could never create anything so harmless."

"Ah," sighed Glaucon, "there you are certainly wrong. They may not have blades or spikes, but within these heavenly spheres is truth. And therein lies the surest danger."

"But not for us, I should think," replied Ignotus.

"No, not for us, not today." Glaucon moved forward, and into the center of the large room. Centaurs surrounded him from all sides, all gazing up at the light, all in pure rapture. "Today the truth is our ally."

"But what _are_ they?" Cadmus demanded.

"They are stars."

"What's that, then?" Antioch prodded.

"They were a gift to the centaurs, from the very creation of time. Hung in the heavens, for us to gaze upon. The elves feared their power, and stole them away. They used their magic to lock them in that," and Glaucon pointed to a mass of twisted silver, clearly bent and broken by the feet of trampling centaurs. "Four nights ago, I heard them calling to me. Such a sweet sound, light a thousand harps all singing at once.

"So the next night I went out in search of them. I followed the singing, and was drawn to the hall housed between the Houses of Space and Time. I wrapped my hooves in cloth and stole into the building through the House of Time. I was quickly lost, and fled down a flight of stairs. I found myself in front of a locked door, which I could not force. And just next to the door stood a spectacular mirror. I placed myself before it, and it threw images of the stars into my eyes. It showed me the way. It knew my heart, and guided me to my one true desire."

Glaucon took a breath, and shook his head, as if to dispel the residual enchantment of the mirror. "I entered the hall, and the singing grew louder. It rang in my ears, louder than a thousand drums. And as I placed my hands upon their accursedly wrought prison, their song exploded into a climax, and was silenced. So furious was I that I took it with me, and as soon as I took shelter in the stables I cast my hooves upon the metal. My brothers joined in, until finally the stars burst forth. And we gazed.

"We spent all night with our eyes focused upon the stars, and in the morning we grudgingly left to tend the fields. The stars told us of the past, present, and future. They gave us such knowledge. And we knew it was time for us to act.

"So the next night I summoned Garnash here, and told him what the stars had told me, and we dreamt up our conspiracy. But before we could act, we knew that our team was not yet complete. So I sent Garnash out last night, to bring us a human from the House of Memory, and convince that human to come here with two of his colleagues. And now you are here. And we must address the truth."

"What truth?" asked Cadmus.

"The truth about the elves, human," answered Garnash the goblin. "And about magic. And the world, and ourselves. They have been lying to us. And now it is time that the truth be told."

Garnash took a seat, and beckoned the others to do the same. Ignotus followed immediately, crossing his legs and seating himself on top of the hay littering the ground. The other two brothers quickly followed suit. Glaucon refocused his eyes upon the lights, and slowly began to speak.

• • •

"At first there was the earth. Goblins were created to dig beneath it, and gems and metals were buried within, for the goblins to unveil. Next was the sky, and the centaurs were made to gaze upon it. Stars and planets were hung upon it, as divine messengers unto this world. And last the land was created, and all that lived upon it. Elves were made, gentle and kind, to tend to the land and its wonders; and humans were created, hungry and inventive, to bridge the gap between goblins and centaurs, and turn metal and stone and build it to reach into the heavens.

"Each was created with a unique magical ability. The goblins could weave their magic into metal and gems, creating the finest jewels and weapons upon the Earth. The centaurs could read the stars, watch as time unravels in their constellations. Humans were given magic to match their mission; with their abilities they could build, destroy, create, and obliterate. The only constraints on their power were their confidence and their imagination. The elves had similarly broad powers, but with greater constraints. They're power was crafted to care, and protect. Their power consisted of a tremendous capacity for love.

"The first three species reveled in their magic, and took great pride and pleasure in the purposes that creation had crafted them for. But the elves grew discontent. Their magical gift became more a curse. Their love and care for the world was unappreciated, and unrequited, and eventually it turned on them, into bitterness and spite.

"Angry at their gift, they removed it from their bodies. They ripped love straight from their hearts, and locked it away, deep under ground, where it could never be accessed again. And then, cold and twisted, they set their minds to work.

"First they took the humans. They robbed them of their magic wands, and brought them to a deep dungeon, miles beneath the earth. At the center lay an amphitheater, carved of stone. The elves restrained the humans, and cast a wicked enchantment over them. The curse removed their magic, robbing them of their birthright. First the elves tried to take it for themselves, but it could not be done. The magic remained locked within the humans, flowing through their veins, just beyond reach. There will always be a certain magic about blood; it is blood that sustains life, and as long as blood persists, so will life, in one form or another.

"The elves knew that the magic was bound in with human blood, and so, that night, had a slaughter. Thousands of humans were butchered within the amphitheater that night, and the elves bathed in their blood. With a dark incantation, the magic was released, and the elves absorbed human magic into their own bodies. Dripping with stolen life, they rose from their pool and changed. The previously diminutive creatures became tall and proud, and faces made to be kind became harsh and arrogant. This marked the first conquest of the elves.

"The rest of the humans were enslaved, some to work, and the rest to die another day. The magic that the elves now possessed was not their own, nor were their bodies, and they would need to bathe in blood again to maintain their victory. And so the humans were encouraged to breed and grow, so again and again their blood may be spilled.

"The elves used human magic first to build the House of Memory. There they built their pensieves and took magical secrets from the humans as well, and made them forget that they had ever been free.

"It was not long before they came after the goblins. Goblin magic was not so easy to steal or suppress, but they too were robbed of their secrets in the House of Memory. They were then forced to build weapons, and the elves adapted goblin spells to imbue the blades with magic. Just as with humans, a goblin's magic is woven in with its blood, and so the elves would cool heated metal with blood spilled fresh from a goblin's heart.

"Centaur magic was impossible for them to steal or adapt. They would never be able to see into the stars and read time as we can. But with human and goblin magic, and evil craft of their own design, they built the Dark House, the House of Death. It was in the amphitheater below that they first butchered humans, and it is there that they do it still. In the center they built a dais, and an archway draped by a veil. Behind that veil occupies another world, inhabited by the dead. From that arch they pull things and bend them to their will. They corrupt the afterlife and use it to create abominations. Behind the veil, they created dark specters, creatures that turn the world black and suck warmth and joy from living hearts. These creatures flocked out of the House and took to the skies, and with their clammy, scabbed hands they ripped the stars from the heavens, and brought them to the elves, who locked them in a case of goblin-wrought silver. And so too were the centaurs enslaved, and robbed of the gifts given to them by creation. And all three have remained enslaved ever since."

• • •

"But what are you aiming to say?" Antioch demanded. "Humans have no magic, and neither do centaurs! And the elves have always been our rulers!"

"Have you no ears?" demanded Garnash. Turning to Cadmus, he said, "I wanted you to bring _intelligent_ humans. We have no use for imbeciles."

Antioch sprang at the four-foot goblin, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck with one muscled arm and pinning him to the wall. "I am not a man that takes insults lightly, hook-nose."

"As you can see, he is the contentious brother. Always good for a brawl," Cadmus replied, "so I would recommend you select your words with a trifle more care."

"Regardless, release the goblin," ordered Glaucon. "Don't you see? The elves have lied. They have ascended their thrones through bloodshed and deception. They have robbed us of what is ours. But the stars have been released. We are ignorant no longer. It is time for justice."

Glaucon cast a significant glance at Garnash, who rubbed his throat and started to speak. "The centaurs are quite adept at reading the stars, but anything a bit closer seems to be far beneath their attention. Fortunately the goblins were close at hand.

"The centaur speaks of a stolen secrets, locked away by the elves. This is the key. They have hidden all of the secrets in the House of Memory, where the three of you conveniently serve. You are all lettered?"

Cadmus nodded. As scribes, they were the only slaves who could read. Of all goblins, centaurs, and men, only the humans of the House of Memory were allowed to learn their letters. "Good," continued the goblin. "Then it is time for you to play your part. You must find the goblin metal working scrolls, and––"

"We don't have access to those," Cadmus interjected. "The ancient scrolls aren't allowed near slave hands."

"But the metal scrolls must routinely be moved to the House of Metal Works. They will be carted over in the morning, tomorrow. Once they are stolen, you must make haste away from the city. When we goblins reclaim our command over metals, we may begin our assault on this accursed elvish reign."

"Are you suggesting that we try to steal from the elves?" Cadmus furrowed his brow, and peered keenly at the goblin. "And not only steal from them, but steal one of their most treasured relics? Our lives will be forfeit. What do you intend to sacrifice?"

"Patience, human, or a swear my metal will taste your blood." Garnash drew a short dagger, bearing the elegant craftsmanship of goblin hands. "The humans will find themselves generously rewarded. You will have a place in the new world order, alongside the rest of us."

"The humans will face rewards greater than imaginable," Glaucon announced, gazing at the stars yet again. "They will win command over magic, long lost and newly found."

"Well what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means what he said, dear Antioch," Ignotus sighed, "and nothing more." Ignotus seemed just as absent as the centaur at the moment, gazing off into the distance, watching events unfold in a distant world. "It would be reckless to conspire in this plot," Ignotus said at some length. "But no more reckless than remaining inactive. If what they say about the elves is true, then human lives have been at risk for some time." He glanced at Glaucon. "I don't sense any dishonesty. And the elves have proved themselves much too capable of massacre."

And the doubts that Cadmus and Antioch were voicing were suddenly assuaged. They knew what Ignotus was referring to. From a very young age, the three brothers had no one else. From a much too young age, they were all alone.

The moment broke, and Cadmus started pacing with a wicked grin on his face. "Alright then, Goblin. You can count us in. It his humans who are risking their lives in this operation. As such, we humans will be taking charge. We will need to be armed, and we will need to be aided in our escape. This is what we must do."

• • •

Early that morning, before the sun crept above the horizon, Cadmus snuck into the slave barracks. His brothers were still with the goblins and centaurs. They were preparing for the day ahead. Cadmus should have been with them, but he had one last thing to accomplish before he could depart.

He made his way through the halls, his footfalls whispering into the darkness. Finally, he passed through a doorway and into the right bedroom. "Agatha?" He whispered with gentleness that most would assume to be beyond him. He moved closer and touched her shoulder. "Agatha?"

"Cadmus?" She replied, blinking herself awake. "Why are you––"

"I'm leaving in the morning, Agatha," breathed Cadmus. "Events are brewing, and I must be a part of them. It is too dangerous to bring you with me, however much I might want to."

"Cadmus, I don't understand––"

"We mean to overthrow the elves," he said, so quiet that his words hardly disturbed the air. "I will have fled–––I will be in hiding. But I will come back for you, to visit you." It was too dark to see her, but he could feel her presence before him. "And when the elves have fallen, I–––I would take your hand, Agatha. When the war is over, will you be my wife?"

"I don't understand, please, tell me, what war?"

"I can't explain it now, Agatha. Answer my question: will you marry me?"

Agatha sat up, confused and scared, and placed her hand over Cadmus's. "I will."

Cadmus took in a sharp breath and briefly held Agatha in his arms, and then moved to the door. "I will visit you soon. It will have to be in the night; from herein out I am an exile. But I will come for you." And he departed.

• • •

"Do you have them?"

Ignotus and Cadmus skulked around the back of the House of Memory, so early the sun had only begun to peek into the sky. Antioch approached, bearing three packs of graduated size.

"What do you think?" snapped Cadmus. He and Ignotus were burdened with armfuls of scrolls–––whatever they could make off with. The goblins had only tasked them to seize the metal scrolls, but those were relatively few; there were only three, and even the largest was small enough for Ignotus to carry without strain. The secrets stolen from the goblins were minimal–––just enough to nullify their threat to the elvish regime. But there were shelves filled with human spells, curses and charms and potions. Each roll of parchment contained a lost treasure. So Cadmus and Ignotus had snuck into the Hall of Memory and made away with a total of forty-nine magic scrolls.

"No need to be testy," Antioch replied as he swung the two smaller packs off of his shoulder and dropped them at his brothers' feet. "The goblins have packed us basic provisions, as well as a sample of their craft." He opened his pack and drew from it a mighty axe, with a double-breasted blade broader than his shoulders, and a thick oak shaft that stood as tall as he did. Considering Antioch's size, it was a terrific weapon. "They armed you as well."

Cadmus stared down at his pack. It seemed to have a basic wooden frame and blue canvas surrounding. Truly, it looked like nothing more than a little blue box. But upon opening it and gazing inside, he said in wonderment, "It's… bigger on the inside."

"The goblins must have stolen it," Ignotus remarked. "The elves have enchanted them."

"Never mind that, draw your swords!" Antioch urged.

Cadmus and Ignotus obliged, pulling scabbards from their packs. Cadmus drew a long, sturdy saber, and Ignotus a thin and quick cutlass. "Not much compared to what the elves will be sporting," Cadmus pointed out. "They bear no enchantments."

"Yet they still bear an edge," Ignotus reminded him, "and elves will bleed just as freely as any human, goblin, or centaur." He looked at the orange line lighting the middle-distance. "It's time to move into our positions, I should think."

"Yes," agreed Cadmus, and the three of them started stowing the stolen scrolls in their packs. Once every roll of parchment was safely packed, they took position in the courtyard.

The three brothers spread out and waited. Soon, the doors to the Hall of Memory creaked open and five elves crept out, drawing a horse and cart alongside. It was still an hour at least before the rest of the city would wake; right then, the entire area was deserted.

The cart moved along, coming closer every moment to where the ambush was stationed. Just as the elves reached the center of the courtyard, standing alongside the dining pavilion, Antioch leapt out of the shadows. He drew his massive axe, and with a powerful blow he broke the cart's axel in two.

The elves reeled in shock, and drew their wands. Antioch quickly smote the first in the chest, but could not hope to be fast enough to fend off all at once. But Cadmus and Ignotus rose from the shadows as well. Brandishing his cutlass, Cadmus sliced the second elf through the chest, and moved to cover Antioch's back. Ignotus started flicking his blade, bringing the tip whizzing in front of the elves' menacing faces. His sword made contact with two wands, slicing them in half.

Antioch killed the one whose wand was still intact, bringing his axe down at the cleft between the elf's shoulder and neck. He then brandished the blunt end of his axe's pole, and knocked the remaining elves out cold.

The sun had finally risen, just in time to cast shimmers in the blood as it flowed over the tiled stone floors. "We have spilled their blood," observed Ignotus.

"It was only fair, little brother," Antioch replied. "They spilled ours first."

Ignotus was still remarking at what they had done, but it took Antioch only moments to absorb the significance of the act. He rushed forward and unloaded the cart. It contained three chests, each of which he promptly broke open. From the shredded wood he pulled the three scrolls of metalworking. He tossed one each to his brothers. They turned to go, but he leaned over the unconscious elves.

"What are you doing?" Cadmus hissed as Antioch tore the tattered shirt of one of the dead elves into ribbons.

"Making rope," he replied. Using the torn cloth, Antioch bound the hands and feet of the elves he had knocked out cold.

"You don't mean to take them with us?" Ignotus objected.

"Why not? They're slender, I can carry them." Antioch slung the two bodies over his shoulder. "They'll be useful as hostages."

Ignotus tried to object, but Cadmus shot him down, having seen the advantages. "But we must move now, or _we _will be the hostages."

They took off at an easy run, they day still too young for them to worry just yet. They had agreed to meet the centaurs just clear of the heart of The City, where they would ride to safety.

A scream rang out from the distance, and suddenly they were sprinting. They could see the centaurs now, and were being lifted up and onto their backs. And the centaurs galloped, leaving the city far behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3: **The Colony**

The centaurs ran them all the way out of the city, and deep into the surrounding forests. At one point, the hostage elves regained consciousness, and Antioch had to bash them upside the head once more. After that, they took the time to properly gag and blindfold the prisoners, in addition to binding the hands and feet.

By afternoon they had reached their destination. Deep in the forests, miles into the untamed country surrounding The City, there was a small village; a colony of goblins set up to exploit an iron repository. Garnash had set off for the colony the night before, and when the three brothers and their centaur host arrived that day, they were met as heroes.

The goblins' finest smiths rushed forth and wasted no time in seizing the scrolls. The ones that considered themselves warriors took custody of the elven prisoners, and fashioned a dungeon out of an abandoned tunnel. But every other goblin swarmed forward, pushing upon them meat and ale, and demanding accounts of their conquest.

Antioch absolutely thrived under the attention. He pulled out his massive axe and swung it above their heads, showing them the stains of elven blood. The goblins cackled maliciously at the descriptions of slaughter, releasing screams of delight and mirth as Antioch mimed the battle, step-by-step. Cadmus too reveled in the idolatry, demanding that they take back their meats and cook them further.

Ignotus, however, preferred to shy away. Unlike his brothers, he had not shed blood, and yet he felt twice as contrite. He slunk off along the outskirts of the crowd, and seated himself on the ground, leaning against the wall of a nearby hut. Once he was comfortable, he opened his pack and began to read.

They had been there for little more than an hour when a sudden chill penetrated their celebration. Silence fell like a heavy curtain, smothering every sound of the forest. Even the sun was taken aback, and so it retreated into an early night.

A shadowy figure drifted toward the village from between the trees, and leaves browned and fell from their branches as it glided by. The gentle careless elegance with which it moved, so inoffensive while also terrifying, misled the group as to its speed. It was among them before they could even think––though thinking was proving troublesome anyway. Brains slowed to a crawl, and all that the goblins and brothers could call to mind was agony and despair, memories of tears and beatings and dreams long crushed and gone.

It was draped with a black cloak, leaving its face and body veiled. The bony wrists and hands were all that could be seen of it, scabbed and decaying like a body left for years under water. It reached out to the nearest goblin and seized him with both hands. It took a deep rattling breath, and the goblin seemed to finally come to himself and started screaming.

That scream jarred the rest of the group to attentiveness. Suddenly they were all running and shouting. The creature flew into the air and began swooping down, trying to seize the goblins as they ran.

"I don't understand!" Cadmus hissed as the brothers all flocked together. "Surely it is looking for us! Why doesn't it strike?"

"I don't think it can," Ignotus answered quietly. "Though I don't suggest we stay and find out. Unless I'm very much mistaken, it is not the only one of its kind."

The three brothers ran straight for the open mine shaft and threw themselves inside, running deep into the torch lit tunnels.

"So what were you getting at?" Cadmus demanded. "Why didn't it attack us?"

"It couldn't see us," panted Ignotus. "I think it must be blind."

"How do you figure?" Antioch asked as well.

"Because it didn't attack us, for starters. We're each a good foot and a half taller than each goblin here, but it couldn't distinguish us." Ignotus leaned over his pack and started rifling through it. "And to top it, did you see what it did to the sun? Anything that carries the night on its heels must have something better than eyes to navigate with."

"Well what do we do now?" Antioch asked. "How will we fight it?"

"We won't," Cadmus replied immediately. "We'll wait. The monster can fly, it suppresses heat and light, radiating a cold so powerful that it freezes our very souls." He clapped a hand over his chest, right where they all had felt the cold, clammy pressure. "It cannot be fought. But the tunnels are deep, and Ignotus thinks that it is blind. It can't search forever."

And so they waited. Time passed slowly in the tunnels, and they jumped at every small noise. Any shifting pebbles sounded like eerie, rattling breathe, and every time one of them ruffled their clothes it sounded like a cloak sliding across the tunnel floor. But after many hours, the sound of footsteps started echoing down the passages, and they called out. The goblins found them, and led them to a larger, better-lit tunnel where most of the other goblins had taken refuge.

"What were those things?" Antioch asked Darren, a centaur, as they joined the group. Ever since the stars had been released, centaurs were considered the best reference point for information on the mysterious.

"They bear no formal name," he responded. Darren was short for a centaur, with glossy black fur and similarly black curls falling from his head. "We think of them as Inheritance Robbers, as they were the ones who stole the stars from the night."

"Already we have started naming them," a goblin pitched in. "I call them the blind crusaders, because they seemed to chase us from the smell of our fear alone."

"I would call them the Soul Dementors," Ignotus added from his corner. As was his way, he had sidled off from the group and chosen a quiet spot in seclusion. "From the way they intrude within you, compressing your innards and tormenting your mind." He spoke in a low murmur, but everyone listened raptly. "They made my knees weak and sent shivers down my spine, but many things do that; never, however, has a creature reached inside and drawn out my every weakness as the Dementor did today. Whatever evil created such a monstrosity, I don't care to imagine."

It was resolved that it wouldn't be safe for the brothers to resurface that night. The goblins furnished them with food and beds in a well ventilated tunnel, and provided them with enough torches to last them til morning. The two eldest were quite ready to fall into a deep untroubled sleep. But Ignotus stayed awake for hours, holding a candle to his scrolls.

When they all woke in the morning, they left their tunnel to find a group of consternated goblins huddled in the corridor.

"_You_ said Zarnoff had learned!" One of them hissed.

"He knows his letters," the other insisted. "But it was short notice! He can't be expected to decipher every scroll!"

"What's going on?" Antioch demanded.

"Nothing! Nothing," the goblins jumped. "Please, honored guests, pay no heed to us. Return to your quarters."

Cadmus, however, was not so easily duped. With narrowed eyes, he said, "What of the scrolls? Won't you need help to read them?"

"No, sir, no," the goblin replied quickly, touching the tips of his fingers together. "We are making due quite well on our own, you see. Now you rest. You have done enough, sirs––"

"I don't believe we have, yet." Cadmus asserted. "Now take us to your smiths."

The goblins all frantically babbled, trying to dissuade him, but Cadmus would not budge. Finally conceding, they led the brothers through a network of further tunnels, until they arrived in a partially underground chamber, filled with scorching air and smoke.

"Garnash!" Cadmus declared. "We've come to read the scrolls for you."

A flash of anger crossed the goblin's face, and he threw a glare at the huddled group in the doorway, so quickly it was almost imperceptible. But then he exposed his sharp toothed smile, and squinted up at Cadmus. "As generous as that is, I don't remember asking for your help, human."

"And yet here we are," Cadmus replied smoothly. Ignotus may be his match or more in the field of intellect, but Cadmus' element was in deception and manipulation; in moments like this, his words were as slippery as a well oiled stone, constantly sliding between your fingers. "We had more than our fill of food and drink last night, and have slept for all the intervening hours. I'm afraid we'll get bored, if we can't assist with the scrolls.

I'm sure that you would make quick work of them yourselves, but what else shall we occupy ourselves with, if not this? We only stole a few armfuls of scrolls for our own use, and I daresay Ignotus has already read half of them."

"Half, you say?" Garnash asked quickly, trying and failing to hide his eagerness.

"Oh, yes," Cadmus replied, his voice flowing thick with nonchalance. "And we were hoping that these Metal Scrolls could keep us busy for another afternoon."

"An _afternoon_?" Garnash demanded, his eyes now bugging out entirely.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes. Why? Is it too long for you? Because if necessary, we could manage it in two hours."

The goblins practically tripped over one another, in their haste to produce the scrolls for the brothers.

"Dear lord, you'd think we were reuniting their shoulders to their arms," laughed Antioch half an hour later, when the first scroll had been read aloud and the goblins were scurrying around the forge, delighting in the magic they were weaving into their crafts.

"We are," Ignotus pointed out, as he gazed upon the further lines of spellwork. "Remember that this is their heritage that we are giving back to them. The stolen memory of their entire species."

Over the next several hours (it was, in fact, rather longer than two), the goblins rediscovered their great magical abilities. They learned to make steel impervious to rust and stain, yet porous to magical energy. They wrought arrowheads that could slide between an elf's ribs at half a mile's distance, and shields that could deflect attacks from blades and wands alike.

"What shall you equip us with?" Antioch asked eagerly, as the weapons began to fall out of their molds.

"I shouldn't think that you need any more weapons," Garnash said distractedly, as he ran his finger along a razor sharp blade. "You have procured the scrolls and you have read them. What else could possibly be asked of you?"

And once again Cadmus whipped out his silver tongue. "Dear Goblin, do use your head. A goblin's place is in the forge, not the battle field. Only your hands can twist this metal in such wondrous ways; our hands, alternatively, were crafted for war. With a sword we have a greater reach, and a stronger swing. We can shoulder greater burdens, and carry them greater distances. Naturally, we three should be the ones to see the elves in battle."

"True enough," Garnash agreed, and the rest of his brethren nodded assent. "But what of the centaurs? Just as you are stronger than we, so too they are stronger than you. Should not they be the focal point of our militia?"

"The centaurs are broader of chest and lengthier of reach, but their flanks and legs leave far too much exposed. A single elf could topple an army of them, with a wand aimed from a distance. Let them carry bows; their strength will carry arrows across oceans, and through solid walls."

Garnash stopped to contemplate this, but it was clear that Cadmus had won his point.

In another hour, Cadmus had convinced the goblins to take the three brothers to see the elves being held prisoner ("After all, they must _know_ something,").

They led the brothers deep underground, to an unused cavern. Carved into the stone was a dank, dark cell, with iron bars and a lock to keep the prisoners from escape.

Both prisoners were bound to sturdy wooden chairs, and were still unconscious from the blows Antioch dealt them.

"They haven't woken?" Ignotus inquired of the goblins who were standing guard.

"No, but their breathing is steady," they responded, as if disinterested.

"Well that can't be right... they've been out cold for over a day and a half." He took the keys from one of the guards, and entered the cell. "They don't look very healthy either," he observed.

"I shouldn't think so, after the clobbering I gave them," Antioch said smugly.

"Not just that, though. This one in particular... he looks _starved_."

Ignotus was right. The elf's skin had become drawn, his cheekbones more defined and his eyes popping, like they were too big for his skull. His fine elvish clothes hung off him, as if he had abruptly lost a good deal of weight.

They ordered one of the observing goblins to fetch them a bucket of water. Antioch promptly splashed it across the elf's face, and slowly he blinked into wakefulness.

"Elf," Ignotus addressed it. "What is wrong with you? What is your ailment?"

He didn't respond, so Antioch raised the back of his hand to it, but Ignotus waved him off.

"Why are you ill?" he asked again.

"I lack sustenance," the elf spat in a raspy voice. "I am starved."

"You've hardly been here a day, and you've been sleeping the entire time," Cadmus scoffed. "Sure you can stand to miss a few meals?"

"Foul little humans should know to hold their tongues!" he said, raising his voice briefly. The effort of it seemed to tire him further, however, and he slumped back into his restraints. "I require more than you may think," he snarled. "Elves have thirsts beyond your reckoning-"

"He hasn't spilled human blood recently," Ignotus concluded, cutting off the elf. "He's running out of stolen magic."

The elf's face went taut, clearly appalled that his captors knew so much. Smoothing out his features, he bluffed, "I can snap your necks like twigs right now, if I feel the compelled-"

"You have no wand," Antioch interrupted. "You can't fool us-"

"Elves have powerful magic of their own," he smiled, and with a small jerk of the eyebrow the elf dealt an invisible blow to Antioch across the jaw. Blood sprayed out of Antioch's mouth, issuing from a bitten tongue, and showered the elf in a small layer of droplets. "That will have to do," he concluded, and then began to chant:

"_At vim tempor in,_

_latet in sanguine_

_si volet haec darkest peccato_

_lavaretur in flumine et!_"

As he chanted, the three brothers noticed something changing. Their veins stood out against their skin, thick and hard, and their skin grew unusually hot. The veins started to pulse, as if every heartbeat could be seen in the movement of every capillary. Each bulging line turned red, and emitted a powerful glow.

The elf muttered a brief spell, and the ropes binding him to the chair sprung off him. He stood, and began the chant again, and positioned his hand for a curse.

"He wants our blood," Ignotus remarked, unable to move from the shock of what was happening. The goblins were all scurrying back, afraid to get at all involved.

Antioch heaved his body forward, breaking his paralysis. Bulging veins standing out from his arms, casting red patterns against the walls, he swung a mighty punch into the side of the elf's head.

The elf reeled, too dazed to match him in combat. Antioch raised his fists again, but before they came down the elf snapped his fingers and vanished on the spot.

Cadmus and Ignotus began to come back to themselves as well, and after some time their veins flattened out and ceased to glow.

"What just happened?" Antioch demanded loudly.

Ignotus stared at his hands. A feeling of power rushed through him, and a small stream of sparks issued from his fingertips, dancing into his palm. "I believe we just got our magic back."


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4: **The Craft**

The three brothers had never felt more alive. Garnash had realized immediately what the elf's escape meant; their sanctuary was compromised, and they would be facing elvish forces within hours. But the brothers could not be disquieted just then. Power, of a breed they had never experienced before, was flowing under their skin.

One of Ignotus's scrolls had touched upon the art of wandcraft; under its direction, the three brothers set into the woods, to find a tree of wand-quality wood. "Nearly any tree can bear a wand," Ignotus reminded. "There are indicators––they will often be the nesting ground of small stick-men, and will be of nobler stature than the trees on either side.

"The most important part is _feeling_ it," Ignotus added. "the tree will call to you, and from that tree you must carve your wand."

Cadmus arrived upon a tall, twisted bush, and with his dagger took off a branch. "Blackthorn, eight inches," he said, running his finger over the length of the short switch.

"Now strip the bark and leaves, and rub it til it's smooth," Ignotus ordered.

Antioch found his tree next, a tall aspen that he had to climb nearly to the top before he reached the right branch. It held stubbornly, unwilling to allow Antioch to take it without a fight. But finally he tore it from the trunk, and sat on a high branch, carving it into approximate wand dimensions. "Twelve inches!" he called down, his voice muffled by the knife he was currently holding between his teeth.

Ignotus took the longest. He wandered deep into the woods, leaving his brothers far behind, until he found a beautiful beech tree, standing alone in the center of a meadow. He approached the tree and ran a hand down the trunk, and felt the bark quiver beneath his touch. He worked his fingers in among the leaves, gently grasping at the branches that came to his reach. He touched one and it immediately fell into his hand; drawing it from the thicket, he weighed it in his hand, assessing the length and balance of the rod.

Then he grinned. "Beech, fifteen and a half inches," he said under his breath as he gently swished the stick through the air.

"Alright, now what?" Antioch asked impatiently, when Ignotus returned. "Can we do magic?"

"They need cores first," Ignotus replied. "Hairs, feathers, tendons... as long as it's from a magical creature."

"Where can we find those?"

"Nowhere out here, I'm afraid," Ignotus said. "We don't have the resources, nor the means to harvest them."

"So how will we finish our wands?" Antioch asked, perplexed.

"We wait," Ignotus answered. "The goblins are mobilizing, by the day's end we will be on a war march. When we land upon the City, we will slip our way into the House of Wand Craft. We can relieve them of the necessary materials."

"How do you propose we do that?" Cadmus demanded.

"You're the one with a serpent's tongue," Ignotus replied. "Convince the goblins that it would be in their best interest to help."

Cadmus furrowed his brow and considered. "It would be, though. If we are going to launch a war, we need to start somewhere. The House of Wand Craft does not use slaves, and no one but the elves has ever had a reason to go there; it is loosely guarded. It will be easy to attack, and easy to barricade. Once inside, we can strip the building of its tools, scrolls, and materials, and then make our escape, while leaving the building to burn to the ground."

"Then you had better walk quickly," Ignotus remarked, turning his attention back to the wand. "With all the goblins in the forges, the armor must already be done, and the swords nearly so. We'll be marching out before dinner."

• • •

The goblins had worked even faster than Ignotus predicted. By the time the brothers arrived back at camp, the goblin men were oiling their new armor, and the women were packing rations or stringing bows.

Each of the brothers was armed with finer weapons than elvish hands had ever held. Antioch wore a massive suit of plate-armor, so light and smooth that he could move as freely with it on as without. He bore a sword over six feet in length, with edges sharp as razors but with a blade heavy enough to cleave through rock and bone. Ignotus and Cadmus were both fitted more modestly, with fine chain-mail jackets and spectacularly wrought swords, just as sharp as Antioch's, if not quite as heavy.

Cadmus slipped off to find Garnash, and returned a short time later with a wicked grin across his face. "Be ready to march, brothers. We'll have our wands soon."

• • •

They set off on their march, armed to the teeth with the finest weapons crafted since the elves rose to power. Despite their short legs, the goblins determinedly kept pace, marching through the night alongside the centaurs and men.

In the militia were three men, three centaurs, and sixty goblins. Each centaur carried a bow of seven feet or longer, as thick around as a man's wrist, and with a string so taught that even Antioch could hardly launch an arrow. There were six bows of the like per centaur; while two served as archers, the third would make off to the stables, and encourage his kinsmen to enlist.

The goblins did the same, carrying enough helmets, daggers, and shields to equip two hundred of their kind. While fifty would accompany the brothers in their storming of the House of Wand Craft, ten more would sneak into the goblin barracks, and recruit yet further soldiers.

In this planning process, the human element had been neglected. Cadmus had been suspecting that the goblins would trying to edge him and his brothers out of the alliance; they had not wanted help in deciphering the scrolls, and were reluctant to allow them to join ranks in combat. It seemed that the goblins and centaurs hoped to establish a new world order with themselves on top; they had no desire to share that place with humans.

They marched all through the night, and arrived upon the City a few hours past sunrise. "To think, that we slew our first elves here, only two days ago," Antioch said, with an uncharacteristically nostalgic sigh. "Never have two days seemed like such a long time."

They stationed themselves at the outskirts of the City and set up a discrete camp. There they laid out rendezvous plans with the teams planning to go to the barracks and stables, and then hunkered down and waited until nightfall.

As the sun finally drifted over the horizon, the band of warriors crept through the woods that surrounded the City, coming upon the House of Wand Craft.

It was built with its back directly to the forest, to allow the elves access to wand wood. This was the vantage point from which they chose to attack the building.

The building itself was of solid marble, like many of the erections within the city. It was not particularly large; it required less space than the House of Memory, and did not require the same resources as the House of Metal Craft. It contained wand materials, a small workshop where the wands were assembled and honed, and a small library of scrolls describing spellwork, composed of duplicates from the House of Memory.

The centaurs galloped off to station themselves in the high ground of a nearby hill, a vantage point from which to take aim.

As the goblins stretched their legs and prepared for the assault, Antioch leaned in toward his younger brothers. "What are we to do if the dementor returns?" He tried to pass it off as an offhand comment, but genuine worry was clear in his eyes.

"Run it through with your sword and then flee for your life," Cadmus replied, feigning bravado just like Antioch.

Ignotus saw the fear in their souls as clearly as if it were stamped on their faces. They were so ready to throw themselves into the fray when the scariest enemy they faced was an army of elves. But dementors, bringers of darkness and death, were opponents of a different breed altogether. "I can tell you right now that a sword won't change a thing," he warned them. "Goblin steel is strong, but anything that can best our human souls can best our blades as well."

"What do you propose, then?" Cadmus snapped.

"Magic, and nerve." Ignotus said simply. "Both of which we have right now, but neither in sufficient quantities."

"Would you stop talking in riddles, for one moment?"

Ignotus sighed. "If these creatures can inspire fear, then we must fight back with courage. Pure bravery and resolve could protect us from them for a time, but sooner or later we would succumb. So we would need magical means of amplifying and projecting the strength within our souls."

"Was this in your scrolls?" Cadmus asked.

"No. The scrolls don't say how the dementors are controlled. That is black magic, hidden within the House of Death."

"Then how are you so certain?"

"Try your swords, if you must. I, however, will wait until our wands are ready, before I pursue a second confrontation."

They sat in silence for a few moments, until the goblins signalled that they were ready to move.

A party of ten goblins and the three brothers crept through the woods and up to the back entrance of the building, while the remaining goblins circled around to establish a perimeter.

Antioch crept up to the solid iron door, and pounded upon it with the hilt of his sword. As the sound rang out, the party pressed their backs to the wall. In a matter of seconds, five elven guards pushed the door open and poured out. They turned and saw the ambush, only a heartbeat before arrows sprouted from their chests.

The goblins darted at them, drawing their blades and ensuring that each of the elves was dead, snapping their wands for good measure.

Antioch, Ignotus, and Cadmus led the party through the door, walking as quickly and quietly as possible along the corridor. The group fanned out, exploring every inch of the building, searching for any elves that might be laying in wait.

When the space was cleared, the goblins started scurrying about, barricading entrances and assembling larger weapons, designed to fend of a siege. The three brothers made their way to a work surface, however, and started tearing through drawers, searching for wand-core materials.

"I found it!" Called Antioch, as he removed a jar from the recesses of a cabinet. "What is this?" he asked as he pried off the lid.

"Heartstring of dragon, I think." Ignotus answered, peering down his nose at the murky red liquid inside. "It is the only one that needs to be preserved in jars."

As Antioch busied himself with fishing out a muscle fiber from the jar, Cadmus pulled open a drawer and hissed, "I found more!"

"Phoenix feathers," Ignotus said at a glance. They continued searching, finding knarl quills and demiguise hairs, but eventually they relented. Antioch was rolling a dragon heartstring around in his fingers, admiring its strength and flexibility, while both Cadmus and Ignotus entranced themselves with the patterns phoenix feathers cast in torchlight.

Snapping out of his daze, Ignotus started exploring the tools laid out on the work table, fiddling with the cranks and screws until he finally whipped out the long shaft of beech wood and secured it in a vice. "Well this is the moment of truth, brothers," he muttered, applying a layer of acrid-smelling polish. He scrubbed off the bark, carved off the knobs, and rounded the tip of his branch. Sparing no time on elaborate details or on the working of the handle, Ignotus lined up a delicately thin drill with the base of his wand, and gently cranked the screw into motion. He drilled through till the very tip, and extracted the tool to gently slide the phoenix feather core into the vacancy. He then applied a sealant to the hole at the bottom, and set his wand aside to dry.

He repeated the process with the other two wands, and waited patiently with Cadmus and Antioch as they waited for the sealing putty to set. They could feel pressure building within their finger tips, as if the magic was building up, simply waiting to be released at last.

Eventually, Antioch insisted, "They must be ready." He stretched his fingers, filled with dull aching, and reached toward the spot where his wand sat. Quickly, as if stealing himself, he scooped it up in his hand and held it above his head. The pressure lifted from his fingertips, flowing directly into his wand. A grin spread across his face, but as he began to shout out in triumph, doubt flashed in his eyes. Sparks began flying from the tip of his wand, faster and faster, until a fountain spewed out, with sparks the size of cherries bouncing against the ceiling. They started as a deep red, on the verge of being purple, but were gradually becoming orange, then edging towards white, illuminating the entire room with blinding light.

The sparks began ricocheting off the walls, flying everywhere, cracking against windows. Just as they began breaking through, casting their fiery luminescence throughout the night, Cadmus jumped to action smacked the wand out of Antioch's hand. The sparks automatically stopped flying.

The goblins rushed forward to cover the window and finish barricading the building. "You imbecile!" Garnash shouted at Antioch. "Now the entire city knows we're here!"

Ignotus gingerly brushed the wands onto a canvas sheet used to hold carving knives, and wrapped them securely. "No time to stand around," he insisted. Turning to his brother, he asked, "Cadmus? Where will we be most needed?"

Cadmus considered and replied, "With swords, we'll be needed by the front door barricade. If we had our wands, then we could have done wonders from the roof––"

Ignotus didn't wait for Cadmus to finish speaking. He took both his brothers by the wrist and, with forcefulness surprising for one with such a frail frame, tugged them directly to the staircase. "Up we go."

They went straight up the stairs, climbed through a window, and scaling a small portion of the side of the building. Once they were on top, Antioch stopped to ask, "And why are we up here?"

"We are wizards now," Ignotus said. He crouched low and edged towards the end of the roof, peering over. "We have our magic, and we have our wands. If I am to die at the hand of an elf tonight, it won't be as a man too afraid to cast a spell."

"But we don't know any spells!" Cadmus burst out. "Down there, we can at least stab something."

"We'll make due." Ignotus insisted.

"_I _am going to fight with _this_," Antioch declared, drawing his formidable sword. "I prefer it to that twig anyway."

"You only say that because you're terrified to use it," Ignotus threw back. He continued peering over the edge of the building, watching as elven guards flocked to the front doors.

"Are you calling me a coward?" Antioch demanded, adjusting his grip on the sword.

Ignotus hadn't turned away from the coming tempest yet, but he turned now. "With _'that twig'_, you hold the power to set fire to this entire City. With your sword, you hold only a sword. We are standing on the precipice of the first battle of what will be a great uprising, and you are unwilling to raise your greatest weapon. I don't need to call you a coward. your choice is already shouting it."

"Don't you forget who you are, Ignotus! You are the little piss-ant child that spent his afternoons pinned between two bookshelves!" Antioch dropped his sword and grabbed Ignotus by the collar of his chain-mail, lifting him into the air. This was no new action, but now Ignotus acted differently. He did not hang limply, waiting with passivity for his punishment to come. Now he maintained posture, as if Antioch was not lifting him at all, and he had simply begun levitating two feet above the ground. He looked down and locked eyes with his older brother. Antioch faltered, balking at the authority now present in his brother's gaze. He lowered Ignotus, releasing his jacket. "Enjoy the battle," Ignotus said. "Try not to get yourself killed." And he turned back to the ledge, watching as the enemy forces amassed.

Antioch and Cadmus hesitated for a moment and then turned away, climbing down the side of the building and back through the window from which they had exited.

When they got back down they were briefed by Garnash. "Our barricade is flawless," he said. "They won't get through the doors. But it won't be long before they realize that they can break through the walls instead." So the two brothers stationed themselves among the goblins waiting for the wall to start collapsing.

Ten feet to the right of the door the stone started crumbling. The goblins bared their teeth and lifted their weapons, and the brothers hardened their resolve, ready to face the elves.

Within moments there was a ten foot hole, and elves were firing spells through. The goblins rose their shields to block them, the magically wrought metal absorbing the curses. The war-machines they had previously been assembling were now being put to use; suddenly great balls of enchanted flame were flying out to meet the elves, pushing them further back. But the wall continued to crumble, and soon there weren't enough catapults to defend every new opening. The elves poured in, sending jets of light in every direction. They quickly realized that the goblin-made armor was deflecting and absorbing their attacks, though, and so turned their wands to the building, setting the walls ablaze.

Antioch surged forward and slashed four elves with one mighty swing of his blade. The tall warrior creatures fell to the ground as he impaled one more, and rammed an armored elbow into the face of another. Cadmus joined in by his side, moving his sword with quick precision, targeting the less diligently armored opponents and striking where they were most vulnerable.

The goblins jumped in a heartbeat later, and with their unforgiving knives joining the fray, the elves were pushed back and out of the building once again.

They met their enemy at the opening, and as they continued to fight, they watched several elves fall as arrows sprouted from their chests. The centaurs had joined the conflict too, from their sheltered vantage in the nearby hills.

Despite their best efforts though, the elves were winning. Antioch and Cadmus, along with the goblins, were outnumbered two-to-one, and several of the goblins were already down. The weapons grew heavier in their hands, and the impact of curses against their shields seemed to pound and and weigh against their arms. Antioch failed to block a stinging hex, leaving his right shoulder swollen, stiff, and inflamed. Cadmus caught three daggers, summoned and propelled by an elf, in his shield, one piercing the armor on his left forearm and the other two denting and damaging his defenses. They, the two strongest warriors, were failing; the rest were soon to follow.

Ignotus stood on the roof, biding his time, his wand balanced on the ledge. He watched the battle unfolding, the elves pressing in and being pushed back, like the ebb and flow of the tide. Before long he saw that the water level was rising, the elves surging forward without being sent back. He stood, took a deep breath, and picked up his wand.

Just as it had with Antioch, the magic fled his limbs, flooding into the wand til it was filled to bursting. And the sparks began to fly, slowly at first, but then faster, flashing and flaring against the night sky. Soon the spells below began flying up at him, as the new threat was recognized. But Ignotus gave them no heed; he took another deep breath, and began to slow the deluge of sparks. The aching returned to his fingers, building and building, until he had to grit his teeth to maintain composure. Then, still without surrendering control, he leaned over the edge of the roof, and directed his wand at the elvish forces.

He let the magic flow now, but not wildly, not haphazardly. In a directed stream, the sparks began to fly, until they stopped being sparks but a streak of fiery white light. This beam fell on the elves, burning their skin and blinding their eyes. With a push of will, Ignotus added power, and in sweeping motions knocked half the amassed elves to the ground. He felt the power begin to slip, and the beam of molten light began to lose its form. What he had needed to restrain moments before, he searched for now, calling up every last drop of the raw, untempered power left in his body. This he cast out as well, and burned another line into the now scattering elvish forces, in one last sweep.

He dropped his wand and gasped, taking a moment to right himself. Looking down over the edge, he saw that most of the elves were dead or passed out, some by the blades and arrows of the forces below, but most burned and blinded by his wand. The rest had scattered, gone to find reinforcements.

The goblins ran out among the fallen elves, and so did Atioch and Cadmus. They stared up at where Ignotus was now standing, but Ignotus didn't meet their gaze. He stared out at the rest of the City, knowing that soon, he'd be razing it to the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5: **The Campaign**

"You saw it yourself. One human downed a hundred elves, and he had never even held a wand before."

"It was never a part of our plan, to involve more humans."

"Well it is now. You've taken some of the elves prisoner already. We stole enough wand cores to make fifty wands, at least. By morning, you could have an army of wizards, standing ready and at your command."

"Would they be at my command, human? Or at yours?"

"Why does it matter? Fifty goblins stormed the City with us last night, and only twenty made it out with their lives. And what were we facing then? A hundred elvish night guards? They have weapons and beasts and curses beyond our reckoning, and as many soldiers as we have plus a thousand. If we rely on your kind to fight this war, you'll fast become extinct."

Ignotus put down his scroll. Cadmus and Garnash were bickering outside his tent, while he was busy teaching himself sorcery. He crawled out of the tent with his wand in hand. "Garnash," he said sharply, brandishing his wand.

Garnash's eyes hardened as he stiffly replied, "Yes?"

"What I did last night can't be replicated. It was my entire life's worth of magic, nearly two decades pent up within me and finally released. I won't have that sort of power again." A smug look came across Garnash's face, and Cadmus glared daggers at Ignotus, until he added, "But now I have a better form of power."

Ignotus drew his wand and whispered, _"flagrante"._ Tendrils of fire crept from the tip of his wand, weaving around one another and casting lights on the neighboring tents.

"It is very pretty, child, but it won't do much to kill––"

As Garnash spoke, Ignotus spun the wand and the fire grew thicker, becoming long, spiraling ropes of flame through the air. He sent them up, where they caught to the trees and instantly set them ablaze.

"Put it out!" Garnash suddenly cried, over the shouts of shock and awe from the other soldiers. "The elves will find us!"

"_Aguamenti!"_ Ignotus barked, and a hose of water shot out, blanketing the trees and dampening the fire. He then turned back to Garnash. "I have learned how to do that much already. I can also summon ropes to bind you, or knives to cut you, or snakes to bite you. It has barely been a day since I picked up my wand for the first time, and with it I could battle any soldier here and win. We wizards are too powerful to be dismissed; we will need more if we are to win this war."

Garnash's words were stuck in his throat, so Cadmus quickly said, "So it's settled. I will go tonight and return with my army." He left Garnash and pulled Ignotus with him. "Well done. Garnash would have taken hours to convince without your help."

"Are we on speaking terms again?" Ignotus asked coldly. "The last time we spoke, I called you a coward and you left me on my own."

"And I've since been proven wrong. And you right," he added. "I did wrong by you, and I'm sorry. You've shown your worth."

Ignotus brushed off his brother's arm and said, "Try to choose men who already know how to read. I don't have time to teach them their letters _and_ how to fight." He started walking away.

"Ignotus––" Cadmus called. Ignotus turned back. "I could use a lesson. If I'm to enter enemy territory tonight, and make off with a couple dozen of their slaves, then I would prefer to do it with a better weapon than my sword."

Ignotus squinted briefly, and his stiff shoulders slackened. "Get Antioch. There's no point in me doing it twice."

• • •

"Wake, my love."

Agatha opened her eyes gently, squinting through the darkness at the form crouched over her. "Cadmus?"

"Yes," he breathed. "I'm here for a visit."

"The House of Wand Craft was nearly burned to the ground the other night––was that you?"

"It was," Cadmus smiled. "Well, mostly Ignotus, to be fair, but the point remains. We're going to bring the elves to their knees."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No. I want you to stay here," Cadmus told her. "I couldn't stand it if any harm came to you." He ran his finger along her cheek, and she rolled closer to him.

"When do you have to leave?"

"Soon," he sighed. "I have twenty five men waiting for me outside, recruited to join the fight."

"Just stay until I fall back asleep?" Agatha asked.

"I promise," he whispered, and kissed her on the cheek. And after waiting fifteen minutes for her breathing to even out, Cadmus rose, and joined his newly recruited troops.

• • •

In the next several days, Ignotus spent his nights poring over scrolls, mastering every bit of magic recorded before him, and his days relaying these lessons to his brothers. The hostaged elves were desperate for blood, and quickly performed the spell necessary to release magic, just as the first elf had done for the three brothers. Cadmus and Antioch had twenty five men before them, and as Ignotus lent them the scroll on wand craft, they soon had twenty five capable wizards. Ignotus preferred to isolate himself, and was holed away while his brothers trained with their soldiers. Without Ignotus they drilled, with both wands and swords, in preparation for battle.

"With my twenty five men," Cadmus began boasting one night, "we will topple the elves in a matter of months. Weeks, if we don't have to drag you goblins along with us."

"Cadmus doesn't mean that," Ignotus apologized half-heartedly to Garnash, who was gripping a fork rather menacingly. Without looking up from the parchment he was scribbling upon, he said, "Return to your meal."

Garnash loosened his grip, but still scowled. "It would serve you well, _sir_," he muttered sardonically, "to remember who makes your spell-proof armor. If a single chink fell out of place, perhaps over your heart, or the base of your neck, then you would be dead as soon as an enemy curse landed."

"Well then it is a good thing that I can cast a shield charm now, isn't it?" Cadmus laughed, swigging more ale and flinging his shield to the ground. "Not a lot of use to me now!"

"Forgive my brother," Ignotus said again, this time standing, abandoning his parchment. "He is not himself––"

"Oh, I have the feeling he is much too much himself," Garnash hissed. "And your other one, too." He flicked an arm in the direction of Antioch, who was drunkenly challenging the centaurs to an arm wrestle.

"We cannot be stopped!" Cadmus boasted again. "And there isn't a fat lot of difference you _goblins_ can make––"

"Cadmus, hold your tongue." Ignotus ordered abruptly.

"Why should I––"

"Silence!" Ignotus had begun to feel a terrible cold settling in on the camp. The torches flickered and hissed as their flames shrank and died. The entire camp fell silent as if an icy blanket had fallen, suffocating them all. A clammy chill gripped Ignotus's heart as he stood, drawing his wand.

All that could be heard was the gentle rustle of cloaks gliding over leaves, and the distant rattle of rancid, frozen breath.

Ignotus fell to the ground, knees buckling as five dementors appeared among the trees. He pulled himself back up to his knees, barely able to see through the sudden blackness that had fallen over the forest. All that informed him of their continued advance was the steady increase of the rattles in his ears, and the terrible cold that pierced his chest and made his blood turn frigid. But he gritted his teeth and continued to stand, pushing himself and what seemed like the weight of the world up and onto his wobbling legs.

He hardened his heart and summoned his courage, letting every ounce of resolution he had swirl and coalesce into his finger tips. The creatures sensed his presence, the only man still radiating hope. They left the easy prey unmoving on the ground and slid toward Ignotus, their foul rotted hands just visible as they reached through the dark.

Ignotus poured that resolution into his words as he pointed his wand and shouted, _"Expecto Animo!"_

From his wand shot a spray of glowing white fire, glancing off the dementors' scabbed flesh, sending them reeling back in surprise. The strands of luminous web lit the camp as they fell to the ground, losing their lustre as Ignotus braced himself again. The dementors had retreated briefly, but they were now soaring back, cloaks billowing as they swooped down upon him.

"_Expecto Animo!"_ He shouted once more, and emboldened by his first try, he sent up a shining white aurora into their hooded faces.

They veered in the air, opening their mouths and issuing a ghastly shriek, as their manic forms disappeared into the darkness.

As soon as they left the embers of the small fires began to burn again, and soon there was light enough to see Ignotus on his knees, gasping and retching as his hands dug into the grass.

After the onlookers managed to find their legs, two goblins rushed to his aid, pulling him up and trying to push him to his feet. Finally a centaur trotted over shakily and lifted him the rest of the way.

Cadmus cleared his throat, instantly sobered. "They'll be coming back," he observed. "You four, go get the prisoners. Everyone else, pack your tents. We need to get far away."

Ignotus sat nearby as the two goblins saddled a horse for him and fitted his pack of scrolls to its side. The centaur helpfully placed him on he horse when they were finished, and he started to ride as the other men were just hopping on their own horses, and the goblins were mounting their mules. In this way they followed Ignotus out of their discovered sanctuary.

• • •

Even after several hours, when they had been given ample time to catch up, the other men stayed at least ten yards behind Ignotus as they rode.

As more time passed, however, the men continued to gaze at him in awe, and one finally had the courage to ride up alongside him. "It was spectacular," he said. Ignotus inclined his head slightly, to glance at the man addressing him, with shaggy fiery red hair and beard, and a small bald disc developing at the top of his head. "What you did back there. It was amazing."

Ignotus snorted, but the corners of his mouth lifted briefly into a smile. "It didn't work right anyway," he grunted.

"What?"

"It didn't work. The spell was meant to form a shield against the dementors. Some sort of barrier."

The man scratched behind his ear. "You know, I've looked through those scrolls," he remarked. "To learn some of the spells. None of them said anything about fighting those creatures."

"The spell isn't in the scrolls," Ignotus answered, looking straight ahead as if addressing the path ahead. "It is of my own creation."

The man's eyes widened and his mouth formed a small 'o', though Ignotus wouldn't turn around long enough to see it. "That is all the more impressive then, sir––"

"Please, don't call me sir. You must be my father's age," Ignotus said, the stiff edge removed from his voice. "My elders have always called me Ignotus, or, to be more accurate, 'boy'."

"Ignotus, then." The man smiled and asked, "How did you do it, then?"

"I thought of what they do," he replied, clearing his throat. "If they bring fear, then naturally the only counter for it would be bravery."

The man nodded and shivered. "They are terrible, aren't they? The effect they have... it felt as if I'd never be cheerful again."

A look of contemplation overcame Ignotus's face, and he murmered, "Yes, I suppose you're right––It's not just fear, exactly, but also sorrow." He gazed forward absently for a moment, and then returned to the present. "What did you say your name was?"

"Weasley, sir."

"You know, Weasley, I could use some company. My brothers can manage with twelve apiece to themselves. You may ride with me, if you wish."

"It would be my honor, sir."

"So, would you describe the effects of the dementors to me again? I feel we may be on to something..."

• • •

A new camp was made the next day, and everyone jumped to training immediately. The centaurs continued riding when everyone else stopped around dawn, and returned again several hours later with an entire cavalry. Glaucon led the bunch into the camp, intimating, "They saw the stars. Having glimpsed truth for themselves, there was no shortage of volunteers."

They set out hunting, shooting enough game to feed the entire camp. The goblins, meanwhile, set up small portable forges, where they could craft new spear and arrowheads, mend blades, and pound the dents out of shields. "Goblin-made armor is not meant to reflect any form of damage," one of the cleverer smiths tried to explain in a gentle wheeze, "but Goblin-made armor has never had to fight off those Elvish bastard-weapons, that we were forced to smith for them."

And Cadmus and Antioch trained, teaching themselves to fight with a wand and a sword, and even how to use both at once. They pushed their men to do the same, demanding of them enormous payment for the gift of magic. Antioch held nothing back as he forced them to tax every muscle in their body while learning combat. But Cadmus pushed them even further, demanding excellence in every aspect of their magical education.

But even Cadmus's methods didn't yield them the same quality of magical education that Weasley was experiencing at Ignotus's hands. "There are rules to magic," Ignotus explained, "but they are largely unknown and as of yet, undefined. With every spell created, the rules get stricter and stricter. As we are the first natural magic practitioners in quite some time, we've got the special advantage of having a certain fluidity with which we can invent spells. It is all explained in this scroll. The elves have been able to use our magic, sure, but only we are capable of working its true wonders."

Ignotus and Weasley primarily concerned themselves with the defense against dementors. "Once we can determine what they take from us, then we can find a way to hold on and use it against them. You were right; they don't only cause fear. It is something far deeper, far colder than that. Fear will not displace your soul––for that, only the deepest, truest sadness is capable of shifting."

"Your soul, sir?"

"Yes, Weasley. I'm afraid that's what the dementors are after. They are creatures of the cold, dead, and cruel. What else would they want, besides our warmth, life, and kindness?"

Ignotus's dreamy disconnected speach was gone now. With a partner listening, his ideas became clearer and they poured from his mouth, as if the only obstacle between him and untold power was his own ability to articulate it.

One day, as they worked, Cadmus approached them. "Ignotus, I was hoping I might have a word."

"Yes?"

Cadmus looked pointedly at Weasley and ordered, "That will be all, soldier. You may excuse yourself."

"There will be no 'soldier'-ing here, if you please," Ignotus said before Weasley could get up. "It's hard enough to keep him from calling me 'sir', without you storming up and giving orders. At any rate, anything you have to say to me, you may say to Weasley as well. He is my confidante."

Cadmus cleared his throat and shifted his feet, obviously miffed. His hand was not-so-discretely resting on the hilt of his sword, which hung from his waist, as he said, "We've been through your scrolls. We have mastered every spell. The men have been talking, and we all agree that you must show us how you fought––"

"If the men are talking anyway, you might consider letting them address me themselves," Ignotus interrupted.

"That is of no importance, all that matters is that you do not withhold––"

"Withhold? I withhold nothing. The spell is incomplete."

"But the spray you produced––"

"It was not a spray. It was an _animos_. And when the charm is complete, it will stand as a shield, preventing dementors from drawing near." Ignotus considered the matter closed, but Cadmus did not leave, so he added, "The spell is incredibly complicated. I can cast it because I invented it; for anyone else, the intricacies would be far too confusing, like trying to read someone else's messy handwriting. Weasley has barely managed to duplicate my results, and that was after much coaching."

"We will master whatever wand movements, any pronunciations––"

"This spell will require no wand waving, and the incantation will not be of any difficulty. The trial is in knowing your own mind. With the spell in its original form, the caster must summon enormous courage and use it to hold the dementors at bay."

Cadmus considered for a moment, and suggested, "One of the men, Ogden, claims to be able to distill a drink called firewhiskey, which he says warms to the core and feels just like courage. Do you think––"

"I would recommend some to you and your men, so at some point in your lives you will know the sensation. But in fighting dementors, we might as well throw the whiskey in their faces, and hope that it will sting in their sores."

Cadmus's face twisted in rage, but his hand fell from his sword as Ignotus casually picked up his wand. He stormed off, leaving the other two to their work.

"That was rather harsh, sir," Weasley commented as he organized a sheaf of Ignotus's notes.

"He'll get over it. My brothers have bullied me for my entire life, Weasley, and now I hold the cards, and every now and then they need to be reminded of it. His ego gets so large, when he finds a few people that will follow him blindly." Ignotus turned back to his notes, but then looked up and asked, "Which of the soldiers were complaining? Do you know?"

"I would imagine that Crouch might have had something to say. He tends to get rather pompous. And two of them certainly spoke up––their names are Black and Malfoy. They've gotten very entitled every since Cadmus came for us in the barracks. They think they were chosen to be wizards, and that sets them above the rest who still haven't a drop of magic.

Ignotus sighed. "This does not bode well. I imagine that when the war is over, we'll have quite the mess to sort out."

Ignotus and Weasley remained in stationary silence for a few minutes, until Weasley asked, "What's this in your notes? Something about an animal?"

"Yes..." he ran a line across the parchment with the nub of his quill, as if connecting two invisible thoughts. "Yes, I think so. I think that if the spell is to work, the _animos_ will have to take the form of an animal, in some way or another."

"Why, though?"

"As I was saying about the souls, that is the dementor's aim. It seeks the soul, and for the _animos_ to properly model a soul, it must be in the shape of a living creature––some patron creature, to hold the life-force. Bravery alone won't conjure it, though, as we saw the other night. I'm beginning to believe that only single-minded joy will do. True happiness. I'll need to tweak the incantation a bit."

"I'm not sure I understand, sir. Don't dementors feed on happiness? Why would summoning a creature of pure happiness do anything to fight them off?"

"For various reasons, I believe. The creatures are blind, that much has been plain to me for some time. They find their way by sensing emotion in the beings around them. And to summon an _animos_ would be like lighting a sun right before their eyes. I don't believe that my attempt the other night hurt them, necessarily. I think it _blinded_ them. With such a bright beacon to befuddle their senses, they become shocked and dismayed, their evil powers become negated by the strength of the _animos_, and the _animos_ then will be able to tackle the dementors, and stave them off."

"And why do you call it an _animos_?"

"A simple matter of convenience. The name is drawn from the incantation, but I will be changing it soon, and the name will most likely change with it."

"Do you think we will be able to beat the dementors with it?"

Ignotus smiled. "Weasley," he said. "If we are successful, we will be able to win the war."

Cadmus did not relent in his efforts to gain new magic for his troops. When he realized that Ignotus would not give in either, he went to Garnash to inform him that he was planning a new attack. "We will be storming the House of Memory," he declared. "I have a plan of attack that involves you all. If you join arms with me, and do as I say, the City will be on its knees in a matter of weeks."

As Cadmus detailed his plan, Weasley whispered to Ignotus, "Will we fight alongside them, sir?"

Ignotus nodded. "Of course. My brothers are fools, and brutes, and as such should not be allowed into battle unattended." And with that they silently listened to Cadmus's plan unfold.

• • •

In the dead of night, they took their stations. After the invasion of roughly two weeks previous, when they took the House of Wand Craft, the guard shifts had multiplied, and it seemed the entire City was teeming with war.

As the time for action approached, Cadmus counted off his men. All twelve, and Ignotus and Weasley as well, were there. Cadmus issued orders and the soldiers fanned out, creeping around the House of Memory. When they came across an elf, a wizard would creep up behind and hit them with a stunning spell. Six guards around the building had fallen by the time one shouted out. With the silence broken, Cadmus rose his wand and barked out a spell, sending a sound like canon-fire into the sky.

At the signal, the centaurs started moving. They strained their shoulders against ropes fastened to the largest stable, tugging with prodigious strenght against its support beams. In seconds, the wooden structure splintered and fell, and the stars that had bobbed around the rafter finally shot up, soaring back into the heavens, lighting the night sky for the first time in centuries.

Shouts of rage and surprise rose throughout the city, and the elves who had been rushing to the sound of Cadmus's wand stopped and glared at the sky. The men jumped upon their chance, sending hexes flying through the air at their now distracted enemies. Another ten elves fell.

Cadmus's men continued to engage the elves in battle, and the centaurs joined in as well, mostly picking out enemies from a distance, but occasionally taking up a sword or an axe and engaging them hand-to-hand. As this distraction continued, Antioch's men and the goblins started their task across the square.

Tools and materials were quickly raided from the House of Metal Craft, and as dozens of goblins made away with cart-fulls of goods, several others started assembling war-machines that had been stored within. With the war-machines ready, Antioch and his men pointed their wands and sent jets of angry, lapping flames into the face of the building, until the City was lit with the burning light of the House of Metal Craft as it slowly crumbled to the ground.

Their jobs complete, Antioch and his men ran to join the fray, and the goblins turned their machines away from the City's inner circle, lobbing fire-balls into the ornate elven residences that lay between them and the human-barracks.

The stars, the flames, the and the sounds of battle alerted the entire elven army to the battle taking place. Elves poured out of their now-burning homes, decked in their finest armor, wielding wands, and running with such furious elegance that several goblins were too awestruck to respond when they were pounced upon, and run through with the swords they were forced to make.

The three brothers and their small army was vastly outnumbered, but their skill with magic was far greater. The twenty-eight men engaged hundreds of elves from where they stood, in a semi-circle with their backs to the House of Memory. As they fought, goblins worked their elaborate, deadly machines, launching canons and incendiaries into the hoards of bloodthirsty elves, while yet more goblins raided the House of Memory, relieving it of every scroll on the shelves. Centaurs plucked their bowstrings from atop the elevated pavilion, taking out elf after elf with every twang of their lengthy bows.

But, as Ignotus knew it would, the fighting slowed and muted as a shadow passed over the battle, as if the fires raging all around had suddenly burnt out. From out of the House of Death, standing tall and ominous at the head of the ring of buildings, issued a stream of cold black figures. Scores of dementors flew out and toward the fray, and an identical sinister grin crept over the face of every elf still standing. Though displaying a hint of discomfort, from the dementor's foul grip, the elves knew that their salvation had come.

The centaurs jumped and breighed, tapping their hooves nervously against the marble of the pavilion, until they bolted, galloping at top speed to join their comrades in front of the House of Memory. The goblins cowered, looking even smaller than was their natural state. And Ignotus looked around at the wizards, who were all quaking with terror.

He looked to Weasley, and nodded. "Time to see if our spell is worth anything," he remarked, shocked at how weak his voice sounded.

Ignotus rose his wand, staring at the awful creatures as they soared toward him, removing their hoods as they entered a dive, terrible faces with only massive, gaping jaws stretched wide, gruesome scabbed hands reaching out in anticipation of the feast ahead.

He blocked out this image and though of his mother. His mother had taught Ignotus to read, and had fed his passion for learning. Antioch and Cadmus had always mocked Ignotus for having his head in the clouds, and how his focus was always far away from the here-and-now. But before she had been taken away, before the elves whisked her away in the dead of night, his mother had recognized his gifts. She had cherished them. And with her in mind, Ignotus shouted, _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_.

From his wand burst a massive, white eagle, wings spread twenty feet across, which glowed so brightly that it could almost pass as day, and the elves could hardly bear to look directly at it. The bird flew straight at the dementors, battering them back with its glorious wings. They tried and failed to halt their dive, and the eagle issued an enormous _CAWWW! _as it raked the dementors with its massive, glowing talons.

Delighted with himself, Ignotus cheered, urging his patronus onward, to try and knock the entire fleet of dementors out of the sky.

The rest of the wizards began cheering too, and the centaurs created an uproar with their impassioned chants. "Go ahead, cast yours now!" Ignotus gleefully told Weasley.

Weasley bit his lower lip in concentration and shouted, _"Expecto Patronum!"_ as well, and a glowing white timber wolf leaped from his wand tip, running through the air to join the eagle in charging the dementors.

The foul creatures tumbled through the air, bumping into each other in their haste to escape the wrath of the patronuses. The elves' smiles disappeared at once, replaced with shock and dismay.

The light and sound returned to the battle, and the wizards, now spurred and uplifted by Ignotus's feat of magic, began the fight again, casting spells of such potency that in a matter of moments, half the elves had fallen or deserted.

Just as it began to look like the rebel forces would be able to walk out of the City, with not a single enemy to stand in their way, a terrible shrieking wind started up out of nowhere, and it seemed that the eye of a hurricane was forming directly above the House of Death, the winds spiralling black clouds around it faster and faster. The black clouds condensed and moved, leaving the roof of the House and moving ominously toward the battleground.

The clouds continued to condense, growing closer and closer, and drifting lower and lower, until it began to take a roughly human form, but taller than a human, taller even than the proud, seven-foot elves. It towered at least nine feet tall, as the black smoke continued to shimmer and writhe about it.

The elves suddenly looked manic, as if unsure if they were feeling giddy or terrified. The warring had stopped again, as everyone stared at the smoke drifting away, revealing a terrible looming figure, that seemed to be nothing more than a single freestanding, interconnected shadow, yet with such substance that all things now gravitated towards it. Be they elves, men, goblins, or centaurs, all were captured, and all were terrified.

From the shadow slid two gray hands, so long and thin that they would seem weak, if not for the perfect authority with which them moved. Two glowing red eyes blinked open as well, staring directly at every living soul present at once, informing each that they were already within his reach, and all that remained of their lives was only the time he granted them.

Each hand moved with its shadowy arms, reaching into the folds of his darkened body and pulling out a weapon. The left drew an impressive gray sword, long and sharp, that looked heavy enough to cleave an oak in two, despite the ease and grace with which the spirit manipulated it. The other hand drew a wand. The wand was beautifully crafted, sleek and peerless, bleached white and fifteen inches long. The wand sent ripples through the air as he moved it, its power simply demanding attention. The dark figure spoke, and as his deep, resonant growl sounded through every corner of the world, the shadows shifted, growing more angular, until he could almost pass as a man stained black. "I am Death," he told. "And you are mine." He flicked his wand, and the earth cracked, an enormous chasm stretching between the rebels and the elves. With another flick the canyon widened, and the earth groaned another hundred feet apart. And with one last flick, Death sent water cascading through the gap, creating a river far too deep and too treacherous to cross. "My river separates you from the elvish domain. I encourage you to swim it. Otherwise, turn away and do not come back. I will see you all soon enough." They stood a good distance away from Death, with the river roaring between them, and yet every word was terrifyingly, perfectly clear.

"Retreat," Ignotus hissed at the men. He looked around at the soldiers. They each looked like a swarm of dementors had just crawled down their throats. "Into the House of Memory," Ignotus said. "We need to regroup."

• • •

"What was that?" One of the soldiers eventually asked.

"It said it was death."

"He _was_ Death." Ignotus had been searching among the hundreds of scrolls that had been spirited away during the battle. He finally emerged from the woods with a Death Scroll in his hand. He read it now. "The Deathly Hallowed Arch is the connection forged by the elves between the living and the dead. It stands in their stone amphitheater, buried under the ground. In its presence they perform their blood-letting ceremonies, and with its power they created dementors and can even summon Death himself, who wields a wand of elder, beholden of power that is beyond this world. Past the arch, which is made of stone that distinguishes the living from the dead, and through the veil which cloaks the dead from our mortal eyes, lays Death's kingdom. From this place he may be pulled, by––" Ignotus looked up. "Well, there's no need to go into details. It is the darkest of magical varieties. Dozens of humans must have died, to supply the elves with the necessary power."

"We must fight!" Antioch declared. His face was stained red, from blood or dirt, it wasn't quite possible to tell. "We should have swam that river and slain every damned elf that dared stand in our way!" Several of his men cheered. "That's right! Crabbe, Goyle, I know you're behind me!" He clapped his two most thuggish looking men on the back, and started to move toward the door.

"We are not going anywhere." Ignotus said calmly. "Not yet. You are right, Death can be fought. His power is is limited as it has always been. The brave, the strong, and the united will always stand a chance of forestalling his frigid fingers from a steadily growing grip upon the heart. But we must think, first. We must plan."

"I will not take your orders, Ignotus!" Antioch boomed. "I have indulged your whims long enough! You are no better than me!" Antioch continued his departure, but Ignotus stood and whipped out his wand.

"_Petrificus totalus!_" He barked, and Antioch's massively muscled frame clasped in on itself, frozen where he stood. Crabbe and Goyle growled, as did the rest of Antioch's twelve men, but Ignotus kept his wand raised. "I will not let you," he began, his voice dripping with authority, "walk to your death like a pig to the slaughter." Antioch's face twisted with rage, but he could not make a sound. Ignotus walked right up to Antioch, and started at him, nose-to-nose. "I am the most powerful wizard in the world at the moment, and you damned well know it. So I suggest you get used to it and grow up, before you need your runt of a baby brother to show you up again." He flicked his wand again and Antioch unfroze. His hand darted to his wand, but Ignotus shouted, "_Expelliarmus!_" and the wand flew from Antioch's pocket into Weasley's hand. "Don't try me, brother."

Ignotus now turned to Cadmus, who had the sense to not speak up. "We need more men. With so many spells to learn from our new scrolls, we need more eyes to read them and wands to cast them. We need to make another trip to the barracks."

"Agreed," Cadmus nodded. "Tonight. Before half of them are killed and drained of their blood."

They departed four hours later, with a team of ten wizards; the three brothers, Weasley, and seven others. Ignotus whispered instructions to Cadmus and Antioch, and they rose their wands and together summoned a bridge, allowing the team to cross into elvish territory.

The area was shockingly empty of guards, for as they crept along beneath the light of the newly shining stars, they saw not a single elf, nor a single footstep. They finally alighted upon the barracks, and made their way in to find that most of the humans were already awake.

"They took so many away!" An old woman sobbed. "Fifty, or more! We heard children crying, and woke to find so many missing from their beds!"

The party of wizards stood stock still, feeling ill. But Cadmus went completely white. He rushed down the narrow hall and darted into a room. His cry of horror resonated through the barrack, ringing so louder and piercing so deeper than any of the others.

"Agatha has been taken!" He shouted as he ran out. "She's been taken! I need to go after her!"

Antioch caught him as he tried to run by, and said, "Wait." He looked at Ignotus defiantly. "I will come too."

Ignotus pursed his lips, but answered, "And of course I'm coming as well. We'll see her rescued." Cadmus was already writhing in Antioch's arms, trying to reach the door. Ignotus turned to Weasley and ordered, "Stay here and take command. Gather at least fifty men and women––and take the children too, we can't let the elves kill them. If we don't return, our duties fall to you. Good luck, my friend." And at that they started running.

As they passed the door, Ignotus noticed three broomsticks leaning against the frame. He grabbed them and whipped out his wand, inspiration in his eyes. After a moment of hurried wand waving he handed one to each of his brothers. "Hop on," he ordered. "It will be faster this way."

In a matter of minutes they dismounted in front of the House of Death. Cadmus leaped off his broom so fast that it was still flying when his feet hit the ground, and it was sent skittering across the street. His brothers were fast behind, and as three they stormed through the doors, sending them crashing open with three wands raised as one. Elves cried out at their presence, and Cadmus slashed his wand at them, a wrathful blade of fire tearing through them and casting their charred bodies against the far wall.

More elves appeared from a darkened doorway, heading down, with their wrists and hands dripping in blood. Antioch drew his sword and spilled their blood in turn, spitting on their twisted forms for good measure. Cadmus stormed past the bodies and through the door, and entered an enormous stone theater, with ringed stone seating all around, and blood pooled in the lowered stage, at the foot of a sinister arch, looming over them all.

The amphitheater seemed to have been full at one point that night, but now only a few elves remained. They stood at the center, sighing as they washed themselves in the warm blood by torchlight.

By their side, resting on the steps of the dais on which the arch stood, was Agatha, her dress soaked through with blood.

The sound that issued from Cadmus at that moment reverberated through the room, echoing and playing back, until it seemed that the arch itself mimicked him in the terrible, cloying sound of grief, the final correspondence of the living to the dead.

The elves turned quickly and bared their teeth, their dripping hands reaching down for wands. Ignotus raised his own first and shouted "_Protego!_", creating a translucent blue bubble around him and his brothers, which expanded and pressed out into the room with such force the the elves were thrown back, and forced against the wall.

The torchlight shone blue as it filtered through the shield charm, making the blood purple as Antioch and Ignotus splashed through it to join Cadmus at Agatha's side.

"Do something!" he shouted at Ignotus. "You can! You must! Please!"

Ignotus looked at his brother's twisted face, smeared with Agatha's blood as he pressed it against her unbeating chest. From the corner of his eye he saw a shadow slide along the wall, and as he turned to look he saw a black form sliding through his shield charm as if it nothing, no shield, no magic, could hold him at bay. Ignotus looked Death in the horrible red eyes as he addressed Cadmus. "I'm sorry," he said. "But no magic can wake the dead."

Cadmus continued to sob, harder than before. "This was her perfect white dress," he wailed. "And now it's all red." He quieted down, and implored of his brother one last time, "Please. Do anything."

Ignotus looked back in his brother's eyes, and at the soiled white dress. And the perfect blond head, which was free of blood and looked for all the world as if she was simply falling into a fitful sleep. He then thought of the patronus, and what it had been. An outer incarnation of the inner soul. He looked back at Death, and the red eyes narrowed, puzzled at what Ignotus was about to do. "I'll try," he promised, and motioned for Antioch to pull Cadmus away.

Ignotus reached inside himself and found his soul. Using that as a guide, he lifted his wand and traced it over Agatha, reaching inside to find hers too. His lips moved, but only sighs escaped his lips as he kneeled beside the fallen beauty, and closed his eyes, letting himself operate with a much more basic sense. Slowly, Agatha's skin began to glow, white and pure as if she were becoming a patronus of her own. Her skin disappeared among the light, until her body dispersed into strands, like her perfect flowing hair had spread through her very being. Ignotus wove his wand through the air, motioning the light into spirals and formations, guiding it into new form.

Death's eyes were no longer narrowed, but arched, furious at the insult being cast against him. Ignotus finished his work, letting the light thicken and take shape, like Death had but in reverse, becoming a shining white mare, with a single glowing horn protruding from its head.

The creature, which would be called a unicorn by generations to come, blinked its eyes and tapped the ground with its hooves, very much alive, and radiating life and beauty to all those around it. Cadmus fell to his knees as it turned to face him, and gently tapped its horn to the left side of his chest, right where his heart was skipping a beat.

Ignotus spoke softly. "It is a monstrous thing, to do what they have done. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain would commit such a crime. Agatha's blood has strengthened them, but at a terrible price." He turned to look at the elves, pressed against the wall. "You have slain someone pure and defenseless to save yourselves, and now, from the moment her blood touched your blade, you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, until my brother has the pleasure to take it from you."

Cadmus had stood, and though tears still streaked down his face, he had his hand buried in the flawless mane of this new and beautiful creature, and though it was not quite Agatha, he knew she wasn't quite gone either.

"You should not have done that," Death spoke, in the same smooth growl. "The dead stay dead. That is how it is, and how it must always be."

"And that is how it remains," Ignotus replied calmly. "I created new life, with the same soul. There is no law against that."

"There is now," Death snarled. "You will pay dearly for this, Ignotus Peverell."

"As will we all," he said back dryly. "But until that day, I'll enjoy my victory."

And at that, Ignotus guided his brothers, and their new companion, out of the House of Death, and back into the starlight.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6: **The Conquest**

After that night, everything was thrown into overdrive. Weasley's new recruits, an array of men and women, were brought to the prisoners and then presented with wands. Most of the rest of the humans had come too, to be saved from the massacre the three brothers had witnessed. With thousands of people camped in the nearby woods, and a hundred witches and wizards swarming around House of Memory, they were closer than ever to feeling like a real army.

Ignotus chose ten random new recruits and had them follow him into a large tent, filled with all of the most interesting scrolls he could find. He set them to reading, giving them bits and pieces of magic lessons along the way, and ordering them to show him anything that seemed particularly fascinating or powerful.

Cadmus spared no time in training his men. Now with nearly fifty men and women under his direct authority, Cadmus pushed them day and night, with breaks only for food and sleep. The unicorn wandered through the tents at the campsite, put off by the ides of war. Cadmus could barely stand to look at it any longer, so powerful was his grief.

The goblins worked tirelessly in their makeshift forges, making enough weapons and armor that every able bodied man could stand in combat. The centaurs raided the fields by night, harvesting the crops they had been forced to grow, and brought them back to the camps to help feed their refugees. Everyone was working at full tilt. With build up of this scale, a grand and final assault on the City seemed a mere fortnight away.

The day finally came, three weeks after the assault on the House of Death and Agatha's passing, when just before dawn, the brothers gathered all of the soldiers before the steps to the House of Memory, wizards and non-wizards, goblins and centaurs, and Cadmus spoke. "Today is our day of reckoning," he proclaimed. His silver tongue was not gone, like the glint in his now-deadened eye. It just seemed like it had been sharpened, and honed. "Today is when we throw off centuries of shackles and tell the elves _'No more!'_. For too long did they prey on the weak and the helpless. But I look at you all today, and ask, 'Are you weak anymore?' 'Are you helpless, anymore?' " The crowd shouted its approval back, roaring so loud that the elves might have heard from across the river. "I see thousands of warriors, ready to reclaim what is theirs! I see thousands, finally ready for their emancipation!"

The cheers rose up again, and Cadmus took his bow. Ignotus stood and began a muttered speech as well. "We will be facing Death today. He is not a force to be trifled with. But you all have to remember that he can be defeated.

"He is a being of ancient magic, and is bound by its ancient laws. Death can be beaten by the strong, and his powers of fear can be undone by the wise.

"He cannot kill. His magic is powerful. He can torture, trap, and terrorize. He can lay obstacles in your path, and make you wish you were dead. But to deal a mortal blow, he relies on the elves to kill you, or you to kill yourself. Stay strong, and stay united, and we cannot be beat." Ignotus bowed his head and moved back. The crowd did not cheer; instead a steely flint had settled in their eyes, telling one another that no matter what hardship they were about to face, no amount of pain or suffering would make them stop fighting.

With that determination directing their course, the army began to march, with Igontus, Cadmus, and Antioch at the very front of the invasion. As they reached the river, with water swarming past so fast that it could be mistaken for visible gusts of wind, the brothers rose their wands together again, and summoned an enormous bridge for their army to cross.

At the crest of the bridge stood Death, aware of their attack and impossibly quick in his response. The elves could bee seen a mile back, running full tilt to meet the army at the river. "You have bested my river," Death said, his voice hissing in the ears of all the thousands of soldiers. "But you haven't yet bested me." He rose his wand and a crack formed in the center of the bridge, spreading across until the entire structure crumbled.

Ignotus rose his wand and supports shot out of the rushing watter, holding the grey stone in place. Cadmus then swung his arm around in an elaborate motion, thrusting his wand and sending a bolt of lighting into Death's chest.

He absorbed the blow and took a step back, and flicked his wand again, sending a fresher and deeper crack into the bridge. The army slid another ten feet toward certain death below before Ignotus summoned more supports to hold gravity at bay.

Soon Antioch was also sending lightning flying at Death, and then some of the wizards behind him. With every blow Death took another step back, his faltering steps following the rhythm of a beating heart. Death continued to strike against the bridge, and Ignotus continued to reinforce it. Their parlay of blows destroyed and rebuilt the bridge again and again, until suddenly the army found its feet on solid ground, and the elves jumped to confront them.

The centaurs' bows sang as arrows landed in the enemy, propelled with such force that they pierced straight through the bastard-goblin armor. The goblins rushed in to slice at the elves from below, finding chinks in the nearly flawless mail, striking with complete precision at every turn.

With twenty five wizards, the three brothers had taken the House of Memory. With seventy five, they were taking the City. They army continued to advance, Antioch alone cutting a trail through the elves with his sword and wand. More elves appeared, this time mounted on skeletal black horses that soared through the sky on leathery wings.

The centaurs directed arrows upward, and one witch with particularly good aim shot spells, sending the elves crashing into the ground. More elves appeared, with jagged black metal machines, spitting fire and pestilence into the army. But the goblins met them, with machines stronger and faster, catching their missiles and sending them straight back.

The sky grew black as dementors circled above, swooping down and clamping their jaws over men's faces and ripping their souls from their bodies. But wands lifted as their owners shouted, _"Expecto patronum!"_, and wolves and tigers and brilliant stallions stampeded through the skies, meeting the dementors in glorious aerial combat. Where the patronuses flew, patches of blue sky and sunlight crept through, tearing holes in the dementors' manufactured black. The battle field became streaked with light and dark as the elves were forced further and further into the center of the City.

Death hovered above the battle, summoning storms and fires and terrible diseases to fall upon the men.

But Ignotus mounted the pavilion, and standing on a level with Death, he combatted his evil designs. Every storm-cloud dispersed, every fire extinguished, and every pestilence eradicated. He stood against Death, tempering every attack, until Death turned on him and directed the power of his legendary wand, and every ounce of his own prodigious skill, into Ignotus's heart. Arms extended and feet hanging limp, Ignotus was pulled into the sky to hover next to Death, hanging inches away from his grip. Awful, cold things ripped through his mind, like a terrible infection was devouring him from within.

The army cried out below and rushed to defend its leader. While several wizards summoned a shield to restrain the elves, the rest bombarded Death with curses, lightning, fire, wind and ice cascading into his form, patronuses swooping in to claw and kick at him, arrows slicing through his shadowy form like embers through a sheet of paper. And suddenly his hold on Ignotus was broken. Ignotus sliced down with his wand, breaking the final tie, and he fell. The cushion of a hundred spells caught him, and lowered him down to be swallowed among the protection of his loyal soldiers.

He now stood beside Weasley, and they continued the fight, tearing through elves while the entire army alternated blows at Death, who was sinking lower and lower in the sky.

They fought through the day, the elves becoming more and more desperate in their search for shelter. Hundreds of elves had fallen. Humans, goblins, and centaurs had passed as well, some by elves, some by dementors, and more by Death's foul tricks.

As the sun crept over the horizon, and the stars came out to cheer their fateful plan into fruition, the elves sounded a retreat, and their greatly diminished numbers poured into the House of Death, with the original squadron of wizards hot on their tail.

There were less than a hundred elves left as they took refuge in the great stone amphitheater that surrounded the Deathly Hallowed Arch. Antioch charged in after them with his men, Cadmus with his, and Ignotus with Weasley. Outside, the men cheered.

Antioch's and Cadmus's men formed a circle facing out, sending ropes flying around the room, binding the elves to their seats. The circle then parted as the three brothers emerged and faced Death.

Ignotus struck first, sending a cascade of furiously bright light surging into his chest. Cadmus, with a broken look of anguish in his eye, sent a similar burst of energy at Death, as the spectre retreated over the spot on the dias where Agatha had once lain.

Antioch stood between them, and walked the path between the beams of light. He plunged his sword into Death's chest, straight though, the blade never passed through the other side.

Death rose his wand to respond, but Antioch grabbed Death's wrist with his one free hand, and tore the wand from his unprepared grip. Antioch roared as he looked up into the eyes of Death, twisted the hilt of his blade and pushed for all he was worth, sending Death back through the terrible arch. And just like Antioch's sword, he did not emerge from the other side.

"We must lock the Arch," Ignotus panted. His ordeals in the battle had been taxing. He could barely stay standing. He gestured his wand at the arch, and a rumble sent shudders through the room as a crack appeared at the top, and a single stone fell from the middle. The stone, making the arch incomplete, guaranteed that no more would ever pass back through it, from the realm of Death.

Antioch reached for the stone, but Ignotus rushed up to stop him, warning, "No! These relics are not to be––" but he couldn't finish his sentence, because at that moment Antioch turned the Elder Wand on him and sent ripples of horrible pain shuddering over him.

Ignotus fell to the ground with a terrible cry, grabbing the veil from the Arch for support and tearing a long strip off. A shriek rang out from the Arch. Outside, among the dead, rose translucent wizards, perfect images of their living selves. These ghosts, now awoken, floated up, dazed and confused.

"Antioch!" Ignotus shouted. "This veil cloaked the dead from our living eyes! Now they are revealed to us again!"

"Silence!" He barked. He rose the wand again, and Ignotus was lifted to his feet by invisible hands, and held firmly in place.

Weasley began to shout a curse to defend his master, but Antioch deflected it and stunned Weasley without even turning around. "It is quite a wand," Antioch grinned menacingly.

"You cannot keep it!" Ignotus shouted, horror now in his eyes. "It is a wand of _death_, Antioch! Death will follow it wherever it goes––"

" 'Beholden of power beyond this world'. That is what you said of this wand, right, Ignotus?" Antioch shot a spell right past Ignotus's left ear, decimating the wall on the far side of the room. "I guess you aren't the most powerful wizard anymore."

Cadmus began to speak, but Antioch cut him off. "Do you remember what he said of the arch, Cadmus? 'Cut of stone that distinguishes the living from the dead.' 'The _living_ from the _dead_.' "

Cadmus's eyes widened, and Ignotus shouted, "Cadmus, you mustn't! These are all imbued with Death's magic! We can't––"

Antioch shut him up with a punch in the stomach, and Cadmus turned to the stone, sitting at the center of the arch. "A stone that separates the living from the dead. Suppose what would happened if I were to turn it around. I imagine the dead would then become living?" Ignotus did not speak, and Cadmus slipped the small stone into his pocket.

Antioch cast a silencing spell on Ignotus, and then began to speak. "I have cast the beast back into the pit!" he shouted. "I demand your loyalty for it." If any of the men had a problem with it, they did not speak up. Weasley was still unconscious.

Antioch then turned to the elves, bound and immobilized in the seats around the room. "You have lost the war. You will all now submit. If you do not, speak now, and you will be executed." None spoke, and he continued. "We have lived as your slaves, and now you will live as ours. You will follow all orders given to you by your human master, and defiance will be punished by your masters, and by yourselves. Your descendants will be born into slavery. Your kind will always be ours too command." With every sentence, Antioch slashed the Elder Wand, writing his words into magical law.

He then turned to his men for suggestions. "I was called a 'house-human'," one called. "Now, they should be called 'house-_elves_'!" Antioch waved his wand.

Another called out, "When I stained his wash, an elf made me go naked for a week! Deny them proper clothes!" Antioch waved his wand.

"Shrink them back to size, from before they stole our blood!"

"Give them big, battish ears!"

"Make their eyes too big for their skulls!"

The men continued to shout, and finally, Antioch was finished, and the house elves were completed. He turned to Ignotus to ask, "What do you think of that, _brother_?" But Ignotus was gone. He had broken Antioch's spell and wrapped himself in the torn veil, and, invisible, escaped the room, dragging Weasley with him.

Antioch scowled. "I'll find him," he decided. "And that Weasley, too. I have unfinished business with him."


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7: **The Conclusion**

Ignotus was not seen again for several years. Weasley had left him briefly to retrieve his family, and while staying at an inn, Antioch had found and slain him. That night, a thief broke in and slit Antioch's throat, taking the wand for himself.

Cadmus had left the world behind, finding a remote place to live with Agatha. He had turned the stone three times and pulled her back from the grave. They married and lived together for some time, and even raised children, but they were gaunt and morose, everything one would expect to be born of a dead mother. Cadmus was driven mad by longing for a true union with his wife, and so hung himself, leaving his children with nothing but his stone of resurrection, mounted on a golden ring.

When Ignotus returned to the City, it was not for his brothers. He snuck into the homes of his fellow humans by night, and whispered spells in their ear, erasing memory of the Great Uprising, of the City, and of any memory of the events that transpired. He then whisked them away, to be spread spread through the world, to lay down new roots, and start stories free of such a gruesome beginning as this.

He did the same with the goblins, but could not with the centaurs. The stars bore the truth, and as long as they hung in the sky, the centaurs would never forget. He swore them to secrecy, however, and finally turned to the elves.

He spoke to them one by one, always telling the same thing. "I cannot break my brother's curse upon you––nor should I. You have done unspeakable things, and for this you must pay. My only regret is that your punishment will fall onto the shoulders of your children––and for that, I am truly sorry.

"But you now must embrace your true magic," he told them, as he guided them to the most unused of the Houses, buried deep, even further than the amphitheater in the House of Death. "It was once your nature to love. You will do so again. This door has been locked by your ancestors, and can never be reopened. But you may reenter by apparition, which you will do now." And on his orders, the house elves disappeared, and reappeared in the room filled with magic that had become so foreign to them. As it rushed back into their hearts, though, they emerged, changed. "I hope you will use your magic better, in the future." He said, and allowed them to depart.

For a select few elves, he had a special mission, however. "It will be your legacy," he said, "to continue the wizarding race. Magic is too powerful––the world cannot be overrun with it. But if new wizards are not created, then our kind will surely die out. Therefore you, and your children, and your children's children, are tasked to sustain the population. Sneak into the homes of non-magical men and women, and awake the power within new born children. Can you do this?" The house elves nodded assent.

And with his job done, and his brothers' messes cleaned up, Ignotus retired his wand and started a family. He had only one son, and taught him the ways of magic, and how and why to use it. When his son was grown, and Ignotus himself getting on in years, he bequeathed him his cloak of invisibility, and entered Death's realm of his own accord.

• • •

Many many years later, on a September night, in the year 1979, an elf named Dobby crept through the window of the muggle dwelling, owned by two dentists. He crouched over the baby girl in her cradle and whispered an incantation over her. The baby blinked and woke as a tingling crept over her, and magic crept back through her body. She giggled and smiled at the green-eyed elf, and he patted her on the head before he climbed back out the window, and she stared inquisitively after.

The End.


End file.
